


Never Dream of Dying

by McSparklez, mjartrod



Series: MB-7 [2]
Category: James Bond - All Media Types, Muse (Band)
Genre: 007, Angst, Belldom - Freeform, Drama, Drones Era, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 73,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSparklez/pseuds/McSparklez, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjartrod/pseuds/mjartrod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Muse are on tour in South America - and secret agent MB-7 is back on duty. This time, he faces a shadowed enemy who can control and reach into the far depths of the human mind. Will Matt be able to fight the threat or lose himself in the hands of a cloaked puppeteer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, we’re back, as promised, with our favourite secret agent :)
> 
> This is the sequel to Everything or Nothing. And while it is not necessary to read the first part, you will understand and enjoy part two better if you do. 
> 
> Endless thanks to BlindPilot for the beta work! We hope you enjoy! It’s going to be a rollercoaster…

_Buenos Aires, Argentina_

_Sunday, 18th October 2015_

  
  
The Argentinian quartet stood after their last performance before a quick break and bowed for the exclusive audience on the yacht. Most clapped politely, regardless of whether they’d been listening or not, a few were more enthusiastic, and there were those drinking and mingling who didn’t clap at all.  
  
Sitting at a table in the back of the room, clapping but less enthusiastic than most, was Dominic Howard. He resumed his previous position - with his arms firmly crossed in front of his chest.  
  
_Santa Maria_ was easily one of the largest and most luxurious yachts he’d ever been to. The saloon accommodated plenty of sofas, a few tables at the back next to the bar and a couple of musicians joined by a pianist at the front, performing for an audience comprised of a few dozen. The guys were enjoying themselves and so were all the other guests, but he was counting the seconds to get out of there. Judging by the very notable absence at their table, it was going to be a good while before that.  
  
Against his best judgement, he leaned back in his chair and nonchalantly craned his neck to venture a glance at the opposite end of the saloon, where a certain frontman lounged on the corner of a sofa with a ridiculously hot blonde. There was nothing casual about the arm stretched over the back of the couch behind her. Under the low lights, he saw the woman lean against her companion, one delicate, manicured hand resting on Matt’s chest, to confide something in his ear. Giggling ensued.  
  
Dom rolled his eyes in irritation and blew a breath from the corner of his mouth. “Fucking twat,” he uttered lowly to himself. He was punching way above his weight, he thought nastily; that woman wouldn’t spare him a second glance if he weren’t foreign, famous and rich. Nevermind how attractive he looked with that black suit on. Which Dom himself had helped him choose, down to the black shirt. The mere memory made him feel even bitterer.  
  
All of a sudden, a pair of fingers snapped in front of his face and he jerked his head up. Chris was looking down at him with a mischievous smile.  
  
“What?” Dom spat.  
  
“Was talking to you, idiot. Never mind, I’m gonna go for a piss.” He waved a hand, dismissing whatever thought had been on his mind. But as he walked around Dom, the bassist bent over to speak in his ear, “You’re nailing this jealousy act, Dom. I take back what I said about you being a shit actor.” He sniggered.  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
Chris walked away laughing and the drummer reached out for his cocktail on the table. It dawned on him how Tom, Glen, Dom Anderson and Morgan were observing him with knowing grins on their faces.  
  
“Fuck you all.” He pointed at them with an index finger, turning in his seat to ignore the prodding looks. His eyes inadvertently landed on his bandmate again - and on his arm, which was now around the woman’s shoulders, their bodies closely pressed against each other. Dom downed the remaining contents of the glass.  
  
A party on a yacht in Puerto Madero, one of the most popular districts in Buenos Aires? It had seemed like an excellent program for the night off between the two gigs in Argentina, part of Muse’s South American tour. It was only when Matt had explained the real intentions behind this specific choice - and the MI6 operation connected to it - that his mood had deflated considerably. It wasn’t the fact that it meant work for Matt, but that Dom didn’t exactly approve of the strategy it required. He was not going to interfere with Matt’s work, he wouldn’t dream of it, but to sit there quietly while his boyfriend was being groped by someone who was decidedly not him to obtain intelligence was never going to garner any kudos from the drummer.  
  
At the same time, Dom prided himself on being perfectly capable of accepting all the baggage that came with Matt, he’d promised him that much. And therefore, despite the fact that the singer could have gone on his own, Dom had insisted that they should all go anyway, convinced that it would be fun. They’d even staged a bit of a row earlier in the day so that the rest of the guys wouldn’t find it suspicious. Chris and Tom were bound to figure it was a farce sooner or later (Chris already had, it seemed), being in on Matt’s secret, but there was no need to raise unnecessary questions from the rest of the gang.  
  
Now, however, the drummer battled with himself, torn between his head that told him that, rationally, he had no reason to be upset, and his feelings that kept needling him about how there was someone else playing with what was rightfully  _his_. Perhaps he should get another drink.  
  
He stood at the bar and gnawed on the straw of his freshly served drink, trying hard not to let his gaze stray back to the sofas again. The musicians had returned in the meanwhile and continued their repertoire, now with Piazzolla pieces. A pair of dancers had joined in as well, a fact that made the guests slightly more interested in the on-board entertainment.  
  
“Wanna go outside for a smoke?” Tom’s voice came from behind.  
  
“You quit.”  
  
“Indeed, I had.”  
  
Dom chuckled despite himself. “Yeah, alright, let’s go. I need some distraction.”  
  
“From the main performance on the sofas, you mean?” He raised an eyebrow and Dom shrugged. Tom tutted. “Such a hard life you lead.”  
  
“Shut up and let’s go.”  
  
There were a couple more people attempting to tango now and they navigated around them, their path taking them behind the sofas where Matt had settled for the evening. Dom took a deep breath as he realised the singer had progressed to the next stage of the MI6 operation; he and the blonde were engaged in an intense snogging session.  
  
He continued walking alongside Tom, but couldn’t help but look over his shoulder, only the back of the girl’s head visible as they kissed. Right at that moment, the head of long blonde hair tilted slightly to one side and Matt’s face came partially into view. His eyes were open - and he was staring straight at Dom.  
  
Dom swallowed heavily, rooted to the spot as he watched them making out. He could virtually feel Matt’s mouth pressing against his own, thin lips parting for him, his tongue brushing against Dom’s. He bit the insides of his own cheeks in a desperate attempt to shake himself out of the daze.  
  
Before he could gather his wits, though, someone walked briskly past him. He stumbled and fell right into another guest.  
  
“Oh! Sorry!”  
  
He carefully pulled back, hoping he hadn’t spilled his drink, and found himself face to face with a beautiful brunette woman. His eyes roamed over her body of their own accord, taking in her tan and curvy figure in a tight black dress. Just because he was in a relationship didn’t mean he couldn’t recognise a striking woman when he saw one. Plus, his sex drive had just shot up considerably too. When he looked up he understood the appraisal was mutual. Amusement coloured her features.  
  
“Sorry,” he repeated. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
“Yes, you did.” Her lips curved into a smile. She had a lovely Spanish accent.  
  
Dom cleared his throat and sneaked a glance at Tom. The media manager had stopped to follow the performance from where he stood a little ahead. He didn’t dare to look over his shoulder again, he could still feel Matt’s gaze burning his back.  
  
He decided to put his most charming smile on. There may not have been intelligence to gather for him, but two could play this game. “So how can I make it up to you? Can I get you a drink?”  
  
“Do you know how to dance?” She bit her lip and looked over to the makeshift dance floor.  
  
He laughed and rubbed the nape of his neck. “Err. I’m a fast learner.”  
  
“ _Muy bien_. I’m a very good teacher.” She held out her arm for him. “I’m Lucia, what’s your name? I’ll lead.”

***

The view to Dom and the woman in black was momentarily blocked by other guests and soon they were nowhere to be seen. Matt decided to return his focus to the mission at hand - a very excitable and even somewhat aggressive mission. Definitely not shy, that one. He’d consider himself lucky if he ended the night only with a sore lip, she’d already bitten him a couple of times. The first time he thought it had been accidental, but at the second turn there was no mistake, she’d done it on purpose.

Made his task easier, he told himself. The faster he got his hands on that contract the sooner he could go back to the hotel. Dom was fuming and he had to admit he felt terrible. He’d been anticipating the evening with glee, looking forward to make him jealous. But if at first it had been a struggle not to laugh at the tight smile the drummer had given the target and at a couple of sarcastic comments he had shot that had flown right over her head, making him jealous wasn’t so fun anymore. Dom was grumpy, had turned to sulking and appeared generally miserable.

He adjusted on the sofa, sliding his hand over Mercedes’ waist and then lower, stroking her thigh. She moaned. He was about to suggest they retreat to someplace they could have more privacy, when the sound of generalised low laughter in the saloon made him look up and surface from the kissing. There were heads turned to a precise spot behind him and he was about to check what was going on himself when Mercedes spoke with a giggle.  
  
“Isn’t that your bandmate?”  
  
He twisted in his seat instantly and his jaw dropped at the sight. Dom stood in the middle of the room, face to face with the woman in black in a sultry dance hold. Their noses were almost touching they were so close, and one of her legs was raised up to waist level and bent at the knee, her thigh in full view thanks to the slit of the dress. She dipped backwards in time with the music, Dom bending forward with a hand on her lower back to support her.  
  
“So funny, everyone’s watching them dance,” Mercedes said at his side.  
  
Sure enough, Dom was dancing - if one could call it that, in his opinion - to a very famous song whose name completely eluded him at the moment. That people were captivated by them had very little to do with the drummer, he was sure of it; Dom’s partner was an eximious dancer. He, on the other hand, looked terribly out of place next to her, she was doing all the work. And why was he showing so much chest? Seemed like he had a couple more buttons of the black shirt undone, made him look like a right fucking sleaze. And he wasn’t supposed to grin like an idiot, either.  
  
Mercedes leaned against Matt again, winding an arm around his neck. “He’s really good.”  
  
He ignored her. The pair, who now seemed to be commanding the attention of the whole yacht, walked down in a handhold, side by side, past him. He didn’t know why he was looking, probably just waiting for the moment Dom tripped and sprawled on the floor. Which hadn’t happened so far.  
  
Matt wanted to resume what he had been doing before, but the dancer chose that moment to jump and wrap her legs around Dom’s waist. Everyone whooped. He spun her around, her hands holding his face with the two sharing an intense stare, and there was whistling and loud cheering at the back of the saloon. Matt didn’t need to turn to see who it was, he’d recognise those loud wankers anywhere in the world. He groaned low. It was distracting and they were fucking ruining everything.  
  
The performance ended with a bang, the girl assuming a final pose with one leg stretched to the side and a hand around Dom’s neck, gazing up at him. The saloon erupted in cheers and both bowed, laughing.  
  
As the clapping quieted down, there was a fleeting moment when Dom looked back at him. And winked.  
  
“Wanker,” Matt hissed.  
  
“You’re jealous.”  
  
Matt stared at the blonde at his side, his heart racing, and he willed his voice not to shake when he spoke, “What do you mean?”  
  
“Oh, darling.” She pushed forward to hug him and he cautiously placed his arms around her. “You don’t have to be upset, everyone can learn how to dance!”  
  
He closed his eyes and forced a smile. “You’re absolutely right.” He couldn’t wait to get rid of her.  
  
She pulled back to face him again, her eyes on his mouth. The tone of her voice changed. “Do you want me to give you some private lessons?”  
  
“Thought you’d never ask.”

***

Matt sighed and looked up at the ceiling of Mercedes’ hotel suite while she licked her way down his chest. His black shirt long unbuttoned and pulled to the side, they had been lying on the floor kissing almost since their arrival.

  
One eye on the folders which he’d spotted atop the desk and the other on the digital clock of the TV, he’d merely been biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to be on his own for a couple of minutes to check what he needed as he certainly wasn’t planning to spend his night there.  
  
Daughter to an important but crooked Argentinian businessman, Mercedes had only just gotten started in the world of shady deals under the guidance of her father. Young and inexperienced, however, spoiled and more concerned with being photographed on dates with celebrities, she was the easy way for the CIA - in a joint operation with the MI6 - to get its hands on a gas supply contract with rebels in South America, once the latter formed government after a coup d’état. An exchange of favours, this would be undeniable proof of treason of some government members, to be presented to Cristina Kirchner, the current President - and a win for both the United States and England, which could represent significant political support from this area of the globe.  
  
M’s call had come in only a few days before. An invitation to Muse’s guest list for the Buenos Aires gig, she’d suggested, undivided attention from the lead singer of a famous band… and easy access to Mercedes’ hotel suite, where she’d have the contract, signed that very day according to sources.  
  
M knew perfectly well how much he disliked political missions and he hadn’t made a secret of his dissatisfaction. He wasn’t risking his arse every day so that the United States could step in on another country’s domestic affairs. The fact that England could profit from it too mattered even less to him. But she had no one else to intervene in time and the circumstances made it very easy for him to gather what they needed so he had grudgingly taken the task.  
  
“How about some more champagne?” Matt suggested when she crawled up his body to be face to face with him again.  
  
“Great idea. Can you do that? I’m going to the bathroom and get changed.”  
  
She winked at him before she placed one last kiss on his lips. Matt eyed her carefully as she stood with her phone, most likely to post a half-naked picture of herself on Instagram. The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, Matt sprung from the floor and marched over towards the desk in the corner. He quickly went through the documents inside the folders, but none contained what he was looking for. The drawers were all empty, too.  
  
He stopped with his hands on his hips, surveying the suite. The carpet next to the bed seemed a little out of place. His ears perked up with the sounds coming from the bathroom, lest Mercedes had deemed herself ready for the night ahead, but there was only a bit of giggling. He kneeled down and instinctively placed his hand under the bed, running it back and forth on the mattress. It bumped against paper.  
  
He scanned the contract, the text in Spanish leaving no doubt about the intentions of the rebels, and took pictures of every single page, immediately sending the files to M.  
  
Then, he grabbed the suite’s telephone and dialled the reception number.  
  
“Hi. May I order a bottle of champagne? The most expensive you have.” He buttoned up while the female voice on the other side of the line spoke. “Two glasses? No. No, just for one person.”

***

 

 

Dom crossed his hands behind his head, made himself comfortable on the pillow and closed his eyes with a smile. Now, this was more like it.

After an evening that had evolved from boring to frustrating, and then to highly irritating, it had all ended well when Matt had messaged to inform him he was in a taxi on his way to their hotel and would Dom  _please_ wait up for him before going to bed. He had still been at the hotel’s bar with Tom, so of course he had waited. And hadn’t regretted it.  
  
Now, in his hotel room, he sat back and enjoyed Matt making it up to him by sitting on Dom’s cock and riding him slow and deep. He seemed almost lost in his own world of pleasure, head tilted backwards and eyes closed, the sharp cheekbones standing out in the pale light of the bedroom. He alternated between biting down on his own lip and swiping his tongue over it, and the very sight would have been enough to set Dom off anytime. Back when he used to be with women, it had been their breasts that his gaze had invariably fallen to - when with a male to their backsides. With Matt, he was attracted to the way he moved, the way he laughed, to everything. But when his mind wandered off, it was to the lines of his face he was drawn to, the blue of his eyes, the shape of his nose, the dimple on his chin, the temptation of his mouth. He was madly in love with every cell of Matt’s being.  
  
He reached out for his hand and Matt’s gaze immediately focused on him. Allowing Dom to gently pull him down, he lay on top of him.  
  
“What is it, do you want me to apologise again?”  
  
“You mean you aren’t currently apologising?”  
  
Matt snorted. “I’m not doing it only for your pleasure, so I don’t think it’s considered an apology.”  
  
“We’re not gonna discuss semantics now, Matt.”  
  
“So what are we discussing?” He lowered his head to place a small kiss on his chin, continuing along his jaw. “How jealous you were for no reason?”  
  
Dom knew he was being teased, so he laughed it off. “Well, so were you.”  
  
“Hmm. I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Matt said innocently before pressing his mouth against Dom’s.  
  
“It’s fine.” The drummer cupped his face and brushed their lips together again, his thumb stroking the side of Matt’s face. “It’s good to know you’re human sometimes.”  
  
It caught him off guard and Matt didn’t know what to say. But Dom wasn’t expecting him to say anything. With an arm around his waist, he rolled them on the bed and eased Matt down on his back, settling on top of him. He grinded down against his crotch, rubbing one leg on Matt’s, before he gently nudged his thighs apart with one knee. Matt instantly adjusted his position and spread his legs wider to accommodate him.  
  
Nibbling at the side of his neck, Dom let his teeth graze down the sensitive skin and, when he rested puckered lips for a kiss, he could feel Matt’s pulse racing. A muffled groan made its way to his ears when their bodies fused. He wondered whether she'd heard him like this. Matt had explained that they hadn't gone further than kissing with a bit of contact but the mere suggestion of Matt being touched by anyone other than him was unbearable. Never having felt threatened by anyone else throughout his various relationships in his lifetime, somehow, this situation had awakened something in Dom, leaving him demented with jealousy.  
  
He moved lightly but deliberately at first, determined to rip out that breathless moan only he knew how to draw from Matt. Matt's head turned to the side and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Dom dipped his face to the pale collarbone, picking up some more speed when one of Matt’s hands lay on his hip, hinting for more. He thrust harder and Matt inhaled sharply in response. He grinned. Taking one hand to the back of the other man’s knee, Dom hooked it over his thigh, the other following, and braced himself on his arms, his hips moving with sharper motions.  
  
He lingered over him, watching his face intently as his hips snapped again and again rhythmically until Matt’s hands fell from Dom’s waist to the mattress. He fisted the sheet at either side of his body, unable to stop himself from letting out small whimpering noises at each motion and staring up at Dom with wide eyes.  
  
Dom knew he wouldn't be able to sustain that pace for long, his muscles already starting to burn, but it felt too fucking good. Matt appeared to have been left in somewhat of a daze when he stopped without warning and the short, shallow snaps were replaced with slower, deeper thrusts. Picking up speed again and touching Matt at the same rhythm, he soon felt him tense up.  
  
“Are you there?”  
  
“Yes… yes.”  
  
Matt's wiry hand replaced Dom's on his cock and he adjusted his position, gripping Matt's hips to keep him in place as he drove into him with abandon. His head dropped back and a guttural sound left his lips when he came.  
  
He collapsed on top of Matt, the lithe body warm and slick from a mix of sweat and semen, their chests still rising and falling rapidly together.  
  
He snuggled up to him, dropping a butterfly kiss on his neck.  
  
“Alright?”  
  
Matt’s faint voice came after a bit and he coughed. “Fuck yeah.”  
  
Dom chuckled against him, feeling Matt's body jerking underneath with laughter.  
  
The singer inched up a little on the bed and Dom shifted to lie flat on his back on top of him, head resting on the pillow beside Matt’s.  
  
"Dom, The Dominator. I like it when you get like that."  
  
"I would more often if you let me," he teased, his voice deep.  
  
Matt rested one hand on Dom's abdomen, his fingers stroking softly. "I let you do anything to me, you ponce. I'm all yours."  
  
"Well, it's hard work to have you."  
  
The sound of laughter bounced around the room and Matt smiled as silence set in. Dom's fingers interlaced with his.  
  
“You’re staying tonight?” Dom asked.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Good. Because I wasn’t planning to let you out of this bed.”  
  
The smaller man laughed. “I’d really love to see you try explaining that to M.”  
  
Dom’s only reply was a pillow to his head.


	2. 002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the interest! Let the fun begin.

_Rio de Janeiro, Brazil_

_Tuesday, 20th October 2015_

 

There were hardcore fans of Muse everywhere in the world, but in Brazil they stood out from many other countries in more than one way. For one, there was their ability to discover the band’s hotel and to sneak inside for an autograph or a couple of pictures. From the corner of his eye, Matt spotted a pair of girls filming him with their phones as he made his way across the lobby towards the pool lounge. They were very discreet and had barely moved upon seeing him, but he predicted that it was only a matter of minutes until they followed him.

He could honestly say he didn’t mind. It only took a few minutes of his time and it made people genuinely happy. Plus, the vast majority of fans didn’t cross the boundaries they’d established and he could relate to wishing to meet someone you admired. He was still nervous around Tom Morello.

He blinked when he stepped outside and the sun hit his face. Shielding his eyes, he looked around and easily found the gang. Stretched out in the sun by the pool, Chris and Tom were drinking coconut water, Glen and Dom Anderson were deep in conversation, sat at a table nearby, while Morgan was having breakfast with his wife.

“Not joining in, are you?” Chris gave him a glance head to toe. The trousers and shoes were quite the contrast to the attire comprised of swim shorts the rest of the guys sported.

“No, not today,” he replied and they nodded. They knew what that meant by now.

“Speaking of that.” Chris grabbed a newspaper off the floor next to him and folded it in half before he threw it in Matt’s direction for him to catch. “Do you know this guy?”

It was the previous day’s edition of _The Guardian_. There were a couple of articles on the page Chris had given him, but it was obvious which one he meant; “ _Male MI6 officer found dead in apparent suicide_ ”. The article had little information on the identity or work of the deceased, focusing mainly on unfortunate consequences of high pressure jobs and the increase of suicide rates in the UK.

“What about him?”

“Just curious,” Chris said.

Matt just shrugged. “I’ve got no contact with other, you know, people, so I didn’t know him. As far as I know he worked in the business support department.”

“Do you think it was that? High pressure on the job?” Tom asked after he took another swig from his coconut.

“Could be, I guess. Don’t know enough about him or his specific work, but it can be overwhelming at times.” He paused. “If there’s anything remotely suspicious about it, they’ll look into it, don’t worry.”

Chris and Tom both hummed and Matt threw the newspaper back to the bassist.

“Where’s Dom?”

Chris lifted his coconut, signalling to the pool behind Matt before taking the straw to his mouth. “Behind you.”

Matt turned around and spotted Dom swimming leisurely towards the closest edge. He walked over to him and crouched down.

“Morning,” Dom greeted when he arrived, supporting himself with his elbows on the side of the pool. “Going somewhere?”

“Morning to you too. And yeah, I have to, gotta pick up an envelope.”

“So you’ll be back for dinner?”

“Oh yeah, I hope so. Would have to go very wrong for me not to.”

Dom nodded and then pushed himself off the ledge to swim backwards, simply mouthing “call me” while his left hand raised to the side of his face, thumb and pinkie extending to mimic a receiver. Matt winked at him with a smile and stood up, ready to leave.

He stopped on his way out for a mandatory picture with the two girls who had previously been in the lobby and then got into the taxi he’d requested, immediately placing a call.

“ _Good morning, MB-7_ ,” M greeted on the other side of the line in London. “ _I take it you’re on your way?_ ”

“Good morning. Yeah, I’m staying close by. I need that exact location now.”

“ _We received it early today from the South American CIA office, it’ll be in 15 November Square. The officer in charge is special agent Damien Jackson. Q is forwarding the data to you now. Secure the key and make sure you destroy the envelope with the information after you acquire it. Report back as soon as you’re done._ "

“And then off duty until São Paulo,” he reminded her. The silence he was met with indicated her disapproval. He couldn’t care less. The operation in Brazil was simple and required little preparation, and he wanted to enjoy the days off before the gig in Rio. Not to mention he was still annoyed she’d sent him to that operation in Buenos Aires on such a short notice, in the first place.

“ _If you must._ ”

“Thank you.”

The ride from the hotel to the city centre was uneventful, the taxi driver turning up the volume of the radio to listen to a soulful album from a Brazilian artist who sang about lost love.

A touristy or at least public place was ideal for a drop off like that; the amount of different people frequenting the location would make the transaction seem as inconspicuous as possible while shielding both parties from any third party that might take an interest in the affairs.

There was a group of tourists sitting and taking pictures exactly where Matt was due to collect the envelope, so he had to wait for his turn. He didn’t seen the CIA man around, but he hadn’t expected to. Finally, the group left and he casually strolled to the spot. He sat down and took a couple of pictures of the square bustling with life with his iPhone to look like any other tourist. Only after a little did he guardedly slide his hand inside the hole in the stone.

He smiled.

***

_Rio de Janeiro, Brazil_

_Thursday, 22nd October 2015_

 

“ _Oi, cara! Toca a acordar!_ ”

“ _Deixe o moço dormir, gente! Cadê o celular dele?_ ”

The sound of unfamiliar voices reached him in waves through the fog in his head, overlapping with the misty clouds that concealed him from the world. Gradually, he became aware of hands and fingers poking and prodding him, and he willed rather than ordered his arm to lift and swat them away as if he was warding off insects. Laughter. More jabbing and he whimpered, spurts of pain he couldn’t pinpoint were attacking him, and he curled in on himself, rolling onto his side. Hard floor with rocks and rubble scratched his arms and pierced his skin. Where was he? He opened his eyes tentatively.

There was a fluster of feet scurrying away, a group of teenagers it seemed, that sprinted away from him. They seemed very poor from the state of their clothing and bare feet. More loud Portuguese slang reached his ears before they disappeared from his sight. He was in Brazil.

He rolled onto his stomach to attempt to get up and shook his head severely. He squeezed his eyes shut before he forced himself onto his knees and then lifted his head. Dirty walls, ruins, dusty floor. A stray dog barked in the distance. A few metres ahead he could hear a ball getting kicked about. Children shouting, playing football on dirt floor.

His tongue was as dry as sawdust.

He stood with difficulty, swaying on unsteady legs, and took a hand to his temple, wincing. Headache. He looked around again. How had he ended up in a favela? He exited the small niche that had sheltered him from the boiling sun and began to walk, albeit unsure where to. A couple of people, all seemingly very poor, looked him up and down without a word. More dogs could be heard in the distance.

He tried to collect himself as he meandered aimlessly. His head seemed to be bursting and yet felt completely hollow at the same time. He patted his pockets. No wallet, no watch, no phone. All gone. He remembered the voices speaking in Brazilian Portuguese above him, requesting his phone as they apparently had been unable to find it. He must've been robbed before that already.

He followed a steep road, flanked by decaying buildings and decrepit cars abandoned on both its sides. He felt queasy. Something in his stomach threatened to make him vomit and he rested a hand there, hoping to calm his insides.

He lost track of time and distance until he suddenly turned a corner and found himself on a large avenue at the seaside. He crossed the road and reached the pavement on the other side, slowly mingling with the crowd. Tanned women in tiny bikinis passed him on roller skates, men exercised and flaunted their biceps and pectorals, groups of people lay in the sand, enjoying the sun, and more people floated in the water. There were stalls selling caipirinhas and coconut water, ice cream and grilled corn, and the black and white wave motifs on the beachfront promenade were easily recognisable. Copacabana Beach. Rio de Janeiro.

He looked around, shuddering, when he felt amused gazes on him, mocking his bedraggled, overdressed state as he dragged his feet along. He he had no real destination and bent his head forward, squeezing his eyes shut. Wasn’t he due somewhere? There was music being played at the beach and he jolted. Stage. _The tour_. He looked up and patted his body again, but to no avail. He had to call someone. Dom.

There was an old telephone box not too far ahead. With some luck it would be functional and he could arrange a reverse charge call. If he remembered Dom’s number. There were only three numbers he had ever memorised in his life: Dom’s, M’s and his mum’s. At the moment as he looked at the keypad and held the receiver, he remembered none of them. He banged his fist against the rusty metal of the telephone in pure frustration, head leaning on the dirty glass of the box. He slid his fingers over the keypad, willing the number to spring at him. He realised that he could press it automatically, even though it must’ve been at least a decade since the last time he’d done it.

After what felt like hours he finally managed to get the operator to call Dom and the tension in his body deflated. There was a click and then the familiar voice of his bandmate.

“Dom, it’s me.”

 _“Jesus Christ, Matt, why aren’t you calling from your phone? Where’ve you been?_ ” There was no denying the worry in his voice. “ _We’ve got the gig tonight and you promised to call last night and didn’t. Are you okay?_ ”

Gig tonight? Matt furrowed his brow. Hazy memories were returning. The envelope. It had been intercepted. He’d spent an entire day tracking down the person who had mistakenly taken it. And once he’d finally gotten hold of it, the taxi driver had brought him to a favela. He’d been hit on the head and robbed, but... the _key_!

“Fuck, the key...”

Headache intensifying at the thought of having lost the key, he shoved his free hand inside his pockets. He could afford losing his phone and wallet, those were replaceable. The key, on the other hand, was invaluable and M was gonna have him hanged if it had been stolen. The whole operation would be a failure if he-

He winced when something small in the corner of one pocket pierced the tip of his finger, but he blew a sigh of relief. The key was still there.

“ _Matt_?”

“I’m here, sorry. I think I was robbed, can you get Glen to send someone?”

There was a stunned silence at the other end of the line. “ _You were robbed_. You.”

He felt heat creeping up his cheeks. “So what?”

“ _Nothing. Just… Well, you’re you._ ”

“Whatever,” Matt brushed him off. “What time is it?”

There was a pause before Dom replied. “ _Half eleven. We’ve got time, we only need to leave late in the afternoon. I didn’t tell anyone you weren’t back last night, by the way, I was gonna say that I saw you leave early this morning._ ”

Matt rubbed at his eyes jadedly. “’s fine.”

“ _Alright, I’ll ask Glen to send a car. Where exactly are you?_ ”

While he waited for his lift, Matt held the side of his head with one hand, his fingers pressing the scalp at the top as he sat Indian style on the sidewalk. There was too much light, it blinded him even when he wasn’t looking at it directly. He was dying for a swig of water too, and an aspirin; the throbbing pain at the centre of his head hadn’t decreased, quite the contrary.

He wasn’t hungover, yet he felt like somehow the world had changed in the course of a night and he no longer belonged in it. It dawned on him how he suddenly wished he was home in London.

A black van stopped right in front of him and the door slid open, the driver gesturing for him to step in. He didn’t need to be told twice and a relieved sigh escaped him as soon as he was shielded by the tainted windows of the car. He pushed himself into the backrest and tried to remember the last time he’d felt this crappy.

***

The trip to the hotel went by in a blur and he barely remembered asking for a key card at the front desk before going upstairs. Dom was lying on the bed fully dressed when Matt walked in. He sat up instantly.

“Fucking hell, Matt.”

The singer was enveloped in a warm hug and he let his arms hang by his sides limply, closing his eyes. Dom rubbed his back up and down before he pulled back slightly to cup his face with his hands.

“Are you okay?”

Matt just nodded and headed for the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to open the tap and drink all the existing potable water on the planet. Once he was satiated, he washed his face. The water pooling in the shiny, white sink was brown.

Dom observed him quietly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You lost your phone, do you need mine to call someone and let them know? You’ve got important stuff there, right?”

“It’s fine, the system is hidden and secured and everything gets wiped automatically if someone tries to break in.”

He nodded and urged Matt to sit on the toilet seat. “Come on, sit down.” There was dried blood sticking strands of hair together and Dom winced as he inspected his head. “You got a really nasty bump there. Might be best to get it checked.”

“No. No, it’s fine. It’s not so bad, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Dom’s fingers trailed lower to his neck. “Your neck is bruised and bloody, too. Shit, did they want to snap your head off or what? It looks like they mauled you with a bludgeon or something.”

“Don’t be silly, Dom.” He sighed. “They just wanted my money and I didn’t pay attention.”

The drummer let go of him and walked over to the bathtub, his bum leaning on the rim, and crossed his arms. “What happened anyway? The text you sent me wasn’t exactly detailed.”

Matt winced. Yes, he remembered the text, very short and to the point. _Got held up, will call tomorrow._ Which he hadn’t done, obviously.

“I’m sorry. You remember that I had to get an envelope?” Dom nodded. “It wasn’t there. Had to contact the CIA agent who’s in charge, then had to track down the bloody person who’d taken it. Took me forever.”

“That doesn’t explain how you woke up in a favela, without your wallet, phone or watch.”

“Well, if you’d fucking let me finish.” He blew out a breath. “I tracked her down. Was just an old lady who thought she’d picked up a lost key. As soon as I had recovered it, I took a taxi, thought I didn’t need to call you again because I’d be back by then, but…”

His memory went hazy at that point and he looked down at the pristine floor. He tried to remember the taxi driver, but found himself unable to. He remembered sitting in the back, arguing with him, but the face completely eluded him. So did little details, like the number plate or the status of the taximeter. The music playing on the radio, on the other hand, was quite clear to him, some bluesy track. He furrowed his brows.

“But?” Dom prompted when Matt didn’t continue.

He looked back up at him and shrugged. “Didn’t drive me to the hotel, as you might have guessed. Pretended he couldn’t understand me well and kicked me out somewhere else. I was so exhausted and pissed off with him that I missed his friends already waiting. Next thing I know, my head hurts and I wake up with kids trying to find my valuables.”

“Jesus, Matt,” Dom said and pushed himself off the rim, then helped Matt standing up. “You’re really the worst agent ever.”

The singer scoffed and looked away. “I just wanted to get to the hotel after all that crap. If any, it’s your fault because I wanted to be with you.”

“Aww,” Dom cooed and Matt snorted. “Of course you did. Everybody wants to be with me.”

“Whore.”

“And you like it.”

That actually brought a smile to Matt’s face and he rubbed his face again to release a bit of tension. “Think I should take a shower and get ready for the gig, I look like a right mess.”

“Do you feel up to it?”

Cancelling wasn’t an option for him. Never had been, unless completely necessary. He thought of the last time they’d been to Brazil and how they’d had to cancel their intimate show in São Paulo due to his laryngitis. They’d be lynched if things didn’t go perfect tonight.

“No, no cancellation. I’ll manage. Just get me an aspirin and I’ll be fine.”

“You should really get that checked, Matt. It could be a concussion.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Dom conceded. “But if you need anything else, you tell me.”

“Of course. Now fuck off, I’d like my peace and quiet in here.”

The drummer nodded and squeezed his knee in reassurance before he left the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Matt just leant back, his head hitting the wall behind him, and stared at the ceiling.

***

Music was blaring loudly through the PA system. It was only a few minutes before they went on stage and Morgan had gone for a quick trip to the loo while the band stood in a corner, waiting for their call.

Matt’s fingers hovered anxiously over the guitar strings, ignoring Dom and Chris chatting lightly at his side. His heart was racing and there were butterflies in his stomach, but they weren’t the usual pre-gig symptoms powered by adrenaline. He was nervous.

“You okay, mate? You look a bit out of it,” Chris commented, thumping him on the back.

“Just need to get some fucking sleep tonight.”

“That was just bloody rude, wasn’t it?” he continued. “Rob you and not even allow you to sleep.”

Matt gaped at him and then silently turned to Dom before the other two men burst out in laughter. “You wanker! You fucking told him?”

“Of course I fucking well told him,” Dom said with a grin while Matt groaned. “Like I was gonna let this one slide by. Robbed by children? Guess who wins the award for Worst Agent of the Year?”

They laughed again and Matt grudgingly rolled his eyes. ”I said it was a group of people, not children.”

“Did you get much shit from,“ Chris looked around and lowered his voice even further conspiratorially, "her?"

"I'll live," Matt muttered. Truth was, M hadn’t been too thrilled and had warned him there’d be a long talk ahead.

"Maybe she's gonna-"

Chris elbowed Dom, the drummer turning around to see Morgan approaching. He walked alongside Glen, who was signalling that it was time to hit the stage. They all followed their tour manager to the sound of the _Drill Sergeant_ track. The conversation was over, there was only the crowd chanting, “ _Aye, sir!_ ” in unison.

Matt was assaulted with such a tremendous bout of nausea that it nearly caused him to wobble on his feet.

The nervousness had temporarily gone away without him noticing it while the guys had mocked him, but it was now back in full force. His heart was pounding in his chest as he entered the stage, his ears were ringing and he blinked, trying to adapt to the lights beating down on him. They were like beams of heat and made him sweat instantly. Or maybe he had already been sweating, he couldn’t remember. Chris, Dom and Morgan were so far away and there was an ocean of faces in front of him, thousands and thousands of people watching them. There were signs and banners, cameras, fans reaching out with their arms and they would grab him and do God knew what if there was no barrier in between them. They screamed his name like demented followers of a cult, their eyes wide and set on him, expecting nothing short of a powerful and immaculate performance.

The intro stopped, but it wasn’t followed by silence, it was scarier than that. The gap was filled with cheers and chanting and applause. But his mind was a blank whiteboard. He didn’t know how to do it. He couldn’t remember what he was supposed to play, where to start, how to greet the audience and he was convinced he wouldn’t remember a single verse. They would slaughter him. Everyone would. He wanted to turn to his bandmates and apologise, the words “I can’t do it” dripping from the tip of his tongue, but he froze completely. He desperately wished he was somewhere else, that this was a nightmare that he would wake up from or that he’d be swallowed by the stage.

But just like that, the crowd began to cheer. And singing the riff – the riff he was playing. He could play it by heart, automatically, he didn’t have to think and remember it. His fingers just seemed to naturally touch the right strings and it all seemed new and familiar at the same time. He approached the microphone to start singing because he somehow knew it was the time for it and closed his eyes.

Maybe he would survive the night.


	3. 003

_São Paulo, Brazil_

_Saturday, 24th October 2015_

 

_A gunshot echoed through the corridor and then Matt was running like the wind._

_The ground shook under his feet as another explosion rippled through the cliffs on top of the mountain and he jumped over rubble and bodies to get to the exit. The stench of blood, hospital and death tainted the air and made it impossible for him to breathe. He turned a corner and dodged the collapsing ceiling. He needed to get out of there. He had to come up with a plan, he needed to think. But his mind was blank, his head under constant attack of pain, he couldn’t think. Why couldn’t he think?_

_His body hurt. He felt like he was about to break, but he couldn’t give up. He needed to get out, get away from the shadows._

_He sprinted down the hallway just to find a metal door sliding closed right in front of him. Without stopping he turned into the next corridor to keep on moving. Ahead of him another door closed. He looked left and right before he decided to take the latter option. The sound of quiet laughter bounced through the corridor and he turned around in panic to see shadows dancing on cracking walls, coming closer and closer. He didn’t see the next door closing and his body hit the cold steel painfully. Matt winced, but stood up and continued his escape._

_It got harder and harder to move his body. His head felt as if it was about to split into two. It would have been so easy to give up, to just stop running and succumb to the darkness, but he soldiered on. He didn’t know why, but he knew there was a purpose._  

_A scream reached his ears. Dom! He had to get to Dom. His legs carried him even faster. Another scream and he dashed to the left. In his ear, M shouted at him to run the other way. He shook his head frantically, trying to get her voice out of his head. He wouldn’t leave him behind. Not now, not ever, no matter how much she ordered him to._

_One of the shadows caught his leg and he was pulled to the ground. He groaned and tried to get up, pushing his weight onto his elbows, but the shadows had crept up his legs already and continued to move up his body, swallowing him whole. He kicked with all the strength he could muster while he crawled further down the corridor._

_There was a new door coming into view. It looked different from the others, though he couldn’t tell exactly how, and Matt knew that this was where he had to go. As confirmation, another scream carried around the walls. It was enough to give him a boost of strength and he continued on until he reached the_ _end of the corridor_ _._

_He pulled himself up, whimpering at the heaviness weighing him down. A cold, ghostly hand touched the back of his neck and Matt lashed out in terror. Two things happened at once; one, the shadowy ghosts let go of him altogether and two, the door clicked open and he fell inside._

_Bright light assaulted him and he had to use one hand to shield his eyes. Sharp pain sliced through his brain and trailed down his neck into his spine, causing his body to lose all its remaining energy. He collapsed onto his knees but raised his eyes stubbornly to take in his surroundings._

_He gasped when his eyes landed on the lone body hanging from the ceiling, half naked and caked with blood and other substances. But when the injured man raised his head it was not Dom who looked at him with broken, pleading eyes._

_Darkness crept up on him again as Matt stared into the spitting image of his own face. Ghosts pulled at his clothes and scratched over his body until they clawed under his skin, his knees giving out under pain and exhaustion. He tried to scream, but found himself unable to, his voice not following his command anymore. Instead, his chained self screamed for him._

_Behind him footsteps echoed and Matt turned his head to the side with one last effort. His eyes closed and the only sound he could hear was Richard Sadik’s laugh ringing in his ears. Then there was only darkness._

His eyes snapped open and Matt’s body kicked back to life, something akin to an electric current running through him and restarting his system. He was on his back and his lungs burned when he took huge gulps of air rapidly. It felt as if he hadn’t breathed in a long time.

His arms shot out of their own accord and his right hand curled around the sheets at the edge of the bed while his left clawed into something solid. He heard the yelp next to him, but Matt couldn’t move even as he tried. He remembered something from his dream and squeezed his eyes shut, the pain assaulting his raw body so directly, it might as well have been real.

Next to him Dom rolled onto his side to reach for the lamp on his bedside table, hitting the switch to bathe the room in a faint light. He turned back to Matt to ask him why the fuck he was waking him up in the middle of the night, but the angry remark died on his tongue when he saw the state the singer was in; sweating and grimacing, the sinews in his neck straining with effort and discomfort.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the grip on his wrist intensifying painfully the only response he got. He moved to loom over Matt, his free hand grabbing onto a bony shoulder. “Matt, it’s me. Open your eyes.”

Only reluctantly Matt complied. When his gaze adjusted to his surroundings and he realised he was looking straight into Dom’s face, he finally remembered where he was. He could feel his nails digging into Dom’s skin.

“Shit,” he swore and let go instantly. “Shit, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Are you okay?”

“Yes… Yes, just a bad dream.”

Dom remained above him for a second longer, scanning his face for anything else, before he let himself fall onto his side right next to Matt. His hand moved from Matt’s shoulder to his chest and he fanned out his fingers, softly rubbing over it. He could feel the singer’s erratic heartbeat underneath. 

After a while the drummer asked tentatively, “Alright?”

Matt nodded and exhaled slowly and deeply. He was in São Paulo, not somewhere in Turkey, they had played a gig only a few hours ago and Dom was right beside him. Lights from outside illuminated parts of the ceiling through the curtain and the sound of cars and distant music reached his ears. He looked to the side to find the clock’s digits showing it was four in the morning.

He rolled onto his side to face Dom, who observed him with concerned eyes. His hand lowered to touch Dom’s wrist where he’d clutched him earlier. Even with the limited light he could see the angry red marks his fingernails had left.

“I’m sorry about this,” he whispered and stroked the skin.

Dom kissed him and then smiled one of his reassuring smiles, conveying that it was fine. Satisfied with that answer, the singer turned around to lie on his stomach, crossing his arms on top of the pillow and laying his head on top of them. Dom stayed on his side, but propped his head up on one hand.

“Talk to me, Matt.”

“Just a nightmare. Very dark and scary.” He frowned. “I don’t remember much from it, just that I…that I was running away from something and tried to find you.”

“C’mere,” Dom said while he moved back onto his back and extended his arms in invitation.

Heat instantly pooled in Matt’s cheeks and he scowled. “I don’t need a pity cuddle.”

“I know that, you tit. I want to cuddle you anyway.”

He pulled Matt to him and wrapped his arms around the small body. He struggled in protest at first, but then molded into the embrace and sighed into Dom’s shoulder, his cheek pressing into the strong tanned chest underneath him.

He felt his heartbeat slowing down and his body relax. Dom always had that effect on him. The drummer exuded calm and relaxation and was such a huge contrast to Matt’s character. People trusted him and felt safe telling him their thoughts and worries, Matt was no exception to that. If anything, Dom was the one who knew the most about him; definitely more than his mum, even if you ignored the fact that Dom was one of the few people who knew about the secret side of his life. It was just so easy to open up to him.

Right now was no exception as a thought that had been niggling at him for a while pushed to the front of his mind.

“I just can’t wait for this to be over. I want to go home…”

Dom looked down on the dark mop of hair and frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you. Just a few days ago you couldn’t wait to be back on the road.”

“I know, but… I don’t know, somehow I just don’t feel like touring anymore. Tonight went better, but in Rio I was so nervous and couldn’t remember a single song. I mean, it worked, but I felt so out of it. As if I didn’t belong there.”

“Maybe it’s just the stress,” Dom suggested. “First gig with the new stage is getting closer and M sprung that mission on you in the middle of the tour. And then you had to hunt down a thief _and_ got knocked out and robbed. Sounds to me like you need a break.”

Matt hummed and closed his eyes. The new stage production had been the last thing on his mind lately, if he were to be honest with himself. “I’ve got work for the MI6 here, so no chance for holidays.” He thought about it a moment before he admitted, “I don’t feel up to it, to be honest.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust me.” Dom kissed his temple. “Is the Argentinian bird from the other day going to be there, too..?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Matt’s mouth. “No, this is a different operation. Thank god, she nearly bit off my lip last time.”

“Better your lip than your knob. Which she must’ve wanted to do anyway when she found out you ditched her.” He added with a laugh, “No risk of body parts getting harmed by cruel teeth... See, what more could you ask for? Let’s get some more sleep. I’m sure the world will look different after a proper rest.”   

He hoped Dom would be right.

*** 

_São Paulo, Brazil_

_Sunday, 25th October 2015_

         

Matt took a deep breath and stared around. LED lights and lasers floated above the jumping crowd, confetti exploded around the partygoers. From their private VIP room they could also see the patio below and the photobooth where one could escape the madness inside the trendy EDM club. The beat of the music pumped inside his chest, but he was sure his own heart was beating faster, although for very different reasons.

He lifted his glass with a nod of his head and a smile to the man in the corner, the owner of the club who had personally greeted the band already for a short minute before he had to leave once again to attend to another matter.

He wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with his dodgy liaisons - more specifically to do with Brazil’s nuclear power plant in Rio de Janeiro. But more was to be learnt once he managed to get access to the safe - conveniently located upstairs - where several files concerning a new project development could be found. Being an extremely old fashioned individual, the club owner didn’t trust technology and the digital modern era to keep his secrets, and therefore he continued to use a safe. Its existence had been a secret well kept. To open it, three things were required: the combination for the safe and a key for the console, both of which Matt possessed thanks to the CIA, and a second key which acted as a second security mechanism and had to be inserted alongside the first key. He’d have to pickpocket that one from the man’s keychain.

He stood from his seat and walked past the group of models sent to their table together with the drinks, heading for the bar to order a glass of wine for himself. Hopefully, it’d be enough to catch the attention of the main man once again. It worked.

“My friend, how are you? How do you like my club?”

He got a strong thump on the back from the tall, black man with a heavy Brazilian accent. “Good vibe, man, good drinks, what can I say?”

“The ladies are good too?”

“Oh, everything’s great, the ladies too.” Matt laughed. “Thanks for having us.”

“No, thank you for an exceptional performance yesterday! Your band.” He spread his arms wide as if words failed him. “The best in the world!” 

They chatted for a couple of minutes until Matt feigned clumsiness when stepping down the stool and falling against the other man. Leaning and grabbing on to him for support, he slyly slipped his hand into the pocket where he’d spotted a bulge formed by his keys. He hid them inside his sleeve while they laughed and he announced he’d be off to check out the DJ. 

When he took the stairs, though, he sneaked to the upper floor instead. The access from the VIP lounge room was indeed unguarded. There were no cameras, that matter having been taken care of by the MI6 previously, so now he only needed to open the safe.

It was easy to identify the office, the secure door a dead giveaway. He pulled a small pin out of his pocket and inserted one end into the keyhole. The lock gave in after a few seconds and he slipped inside, carefully closing the door behind him. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he scanned the room from his position. Low key and without any fancy decoration, the office featured mostly heavy, old fashioned furniture and a few tasteless paintings on the walls. He’d start with the obvious.

Quietly stepping towards the desk, Matt first opened the drawers. All clear, nothing remotely interesting in them. He followed with checking the large paintings decorating the office. There was nothing but solid wall behind every single one of them, so after he had gone through them all he stopped in front of the massive bookcase. There were a couple of wooden panels on each side that caught his attention; one seemed shinier than the rest, even under the moonlight. He tapped a finger on one and then the next. The sound emanating from the second was a dull thud. He smirked. 

Sliding his fingers around the panel, he ran them over the frame which decorated it until he came in contact with a slightly rougher surface. He pressed the spot and there was a click. He pulled the panel open immediately, which was no more than a hidden door, and the safe stood behind it.

Matt rotated the dial left and right according to the combination he had been given and, once it locked, he inserted the key he’d collected in the envelope. Finally, he took the keychain which he had pickpocketed downstairs. There were three keys, but curiously none of them seemed to be quite suitable. He tried one and then the other two - none worked. He looked at them again in confusion and then at the keychain. It was a BMW keychain. His heart skipped a beat. He got the wrong keys. These were car keys, they would get him nowhere. He swallowed when he remembered that the club owner had a driver. He would _not_ have car keys with him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He was so shocked at the turn of events that it took him a couple of seconds before he realised he had to act, and urgently at that, before he ran out of time.

As if on cue, the sound of metal in a keyhole came from outside. Matt’s hand flew to the panel of the bookcase to shut it before he slid onto the floor on his knees and folded himself as best as he could underneath the desk, which would conceal him from new arrivals. Whoever came in walked heavily and Matt berated himself for nothaving heard him on the corridor outside. The man didn’t stay long, apparently satisfied with not seeing anyone at first glance. He left and Matt waited a few seconds before extracting himself from under the desk.

Not good that someone came in looking for unwanted visitors, it meant there was suspicion. He’d have to be very prudent and quick.

The drawers didn’t have any keys and neither had he seen any in the office; it was obvious they were kept by their owner, so it was useless to stay there any longer, would be a waste of time. Best to get back before someone spotted him and regroup for a second attempt.

He mentally reviewed all the information he’d studied for the case as he made his way out. Had he gotten the wrong person? Impossible, he’d strictly followed M’s orders.And yet, he’d apparently failed a simple task.

He’d barely placed a foot outside the office when he found himself face to face with a large, bulky man with an extremely unfriendly expression across his face. _Shit._

“Uh, I think I got lost? Do you know where the-”

Matt didn’t have time to finish his lie. Next thing he knew, he was flat on the floor on his back. He cupped the side of his face where he’d sustained the punch, but he was already getting lifted from the floor by his shoulders and rammed against the nearest wall. The bouncer’s arm swung back for a second round, but this time Matt ducked and the threatening fist collided with the wall painfully.

It was enough to allow Matt to wriggle out of the security’s grasp to bolt down the corridor and downstairs fast as a bullet. His mind ran over possibilities, wondering how to proceed from there, but the truth was that he didn’t have many options. He’d been caught red handed. The guys were all there too, so he couldn’t flee on his own either. But worse than anything, as he realised it had all gone horribly wrong, he had no justification for the fact that he’d apparently acted like a rookie and pickpocketed the wrong target. 

He bumped against a solid body when he reached the bottom of the stairs - another security guard. They had obviously been alerted. He slinked out of his grasp before the man had succeeded in getting a good hold on his arm and sprinted towards the Muse table. He had no choice but to do this.

“Jason, Jason!” He pointed over his shoulder to the security guard he’d just eluded and who had been joined in the meanwhile by the one who he’d met upstairs. They both looked furious. “He fucking hit me! They’re mental!”

“What?” Dom Anderson shot up from his seat with wide eyes.

Matt jumped over seats and tables to search for shelter behind his own personal security, still pointing at the two bouncers and shouting. The models at their table shrieked and started scrambling away clumsily in their high heels and short gowns, trying not to trip. Other guests in the VIP lounges stood and screamed. Chaos had settled.

Dom Anderson, Glen, Jason and now Tom too were trying to keep the security guards at bay while Matt used the chance to quickly scan the crowd around them.

“Matt.” Chris was pulling on his sleeve, Dom at his side. “What the fuck happened?”

“Get out of here, the two of you,” he said as calmly as possible, not taking his eyes off the crowd. Everyone was standing up to watch the commotion and wanted a front row spot. “I fucked up, get out before shit hits the fan.”

“Then why are you still here?” Dom breathed.

“To try to fix it.”

As if on cue, they heard a punch and more screaming from the guests.

“Fucking hell! That’s Tom you’re hitting, you fucking bastards!”

Matt heard Dom and now Morgan holding Chris back from joining the circus, and from the corner of his eye he could see their friend cupping his face. There was blood gushing from between his fingers. Broken nose for sure, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

If he found the right man, maybe he wouldn’t have to abort the operation and could still have a shot at going upstairs and get the contents of the safe. His phone was buzzing insistently in his pocket. M would have his head on a plate, especially after he’d insisted on having the days off after he’d acquired the envelope in Rio.

He found himself locking eyes with another man. Caucasian, older, with grey hair. The actual owner of the club - Matt now recalled - not the manager, which was who the other guy had been. It was impossible to mistake the two for the other, he couldn’t believe just how badly he had screwed up.

The real target was making his way among the guests, Matt’s gaze following him. He had a diversion, he just needed the key.

A fight erupted in the middle of the VIP area. All of a sudden there were people taking sides and jumping in, pushing and being pushed, others being pulled against their wishes, many escaping while others ran upstairs to watch. Glass shattered on the floor, the surface dangerously slippery, and in the middle of it all the music boomed through the speakers while lasers continued to flash over the crowd.

Head down, Matt kept his eyes focused on the white fabric of the club owner’s jacket, as he trailed after him from afar through the dozens of partygoers. The club owner swerved to the side to leave through an emergency exit, leaving a bouncer guarding it, and Matt spun on his heels to take the other direction, ready to leave through one of the back doors. Swallowed by the crowd and cursing under his breath at the amount of time it took him to reach the outside, he instantly took off towards the parking area.

He arrived in time to see the plate of a brand new BMW M5 shining as it drove past him and into the night.


	4. 004

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all the readers who are keeping up with the story and leaving kudos, we can't express how flattered we are! You're welcome to leave a comment, we love the feedback :D

_Bogotá, Colombia_

_Wednesday, 28th October 2015_

 

The last day before a break from touring usually meant they went out to a club or restaurant to celebrate another successful round of shows before everyone went their separate ways. This time wasn’t an exception. They were off until the touring circus would bring them to Mexico for the final leg in Latin America in three weeks time - with the new stage.

After recent events they’d all agreed to take it easy and just sit together for a nice lunch in a local restaurant. It had been Morgan who’d suggested the _Santa Fe Café & Restaurante_, a small establishment at the foot of the Monserrate. The view was astonishing but, given the miserable weather, they’d opted to take a table inside, lest one of them caught a cold.

Said table was located in the back where nobody would bother them, although there weren’t many patrons around to begin with. Matt and Dom sat on the bench with their backs to the wall while Chris, Tom and Glen were sitting opposite of them. Morgan and Dom Anderson had taken to the heads of the table. Conversation flowed easily, something they somehow always managed to do, albeit spending so much time together anyway.

It was quite comfortable, Matt had to admit, but the fact that their table was shielded from the windows and the interior was dimly lit bothered him quite a lot as he had trouble seeing where his plate ended and the tablecloth began. He glared at the slice of meat he had speared from his Sococho.

“It’s fucking dark in here. Gonna be blind by the end of the day.”

“Light’s fine,” Glen said and took a swig from his glass of wine. “Maybe you just need glasses. That constant faffing on your phone isn’t good for your eyes, you’ll be as blind as a bat in no time.”

“Well, he’s tiny enough and that screeching of his is a better ultrasonic sound than any bat could ever produce.”

They all laughed at his expense and Matt had to bite his tongue hard to keep quiet. Honestly, he didn’t know why he was so pissed off with them. They all took jibes at each other all the time, but something rubbed him off the wrong way today.  

He was still angry at himself for failing so spectacularly in São Paulo and it didn’t help that it seemed like he couldn’t concentrate on anything properly at the moment. His headache had worsened too, so he really didn’t need his friends to make fun of him to top it off. He just wanted to get up and get out of there.

Instead, he just rubbed his face and grimaced.

“Don’t be so grumpy, man.” Tom grinned and immediately winced. The cast that adorned his nose made him sound not only nasal but also very whiny.

Dom pointed his fork at him accusingly. “Then don’t be a prick to him. Unlike you, we actually had to work these past days.”

“Are you really coming to his rescue? Well, that’s cute, Dominic.”

“Knight in shining armour, didn’t you know?”

Chris cocked his head at him. “More like knight in pink leopard printed armour.”

“Should’ve come to aid the other night in Brazil before we all got kicked out from the club,” Dom Anderson spoke up and swirled his wine glass. “Last time I got kicked out of somewhere must’ve been in the nineties.”

“The best part was everyone inside defending the twat. And where was he? Outside, just chilling.”

“I didn’t ask anyone to stay inside or break noses on my behalf,” Matt said. The events in Brazil had happened a few days ago and yet they were insufferable and still badgering him about it.

“What gave you the idea that you could fuck with that bouncer? He was twice your size.”

Morgan grinned. “You know Matt. Always in for trouble.”

“I’ve said it a million times. It was a mistake, I swear,” Matt defended himself. He felt slightly offended, but again, tried his very best not to snap. “Took a wrong turn, bumped into him. Not my fault he immediately went for a punch.”

“And then, of course, you come running to Jason with your tail between your legs.”

Matt’s jaw dropped. “What’s that?”

“You ran from the geezer and came-”

“No, I did _not_!” he hissed. His bodyguard had been nowhere to be seen that evening. “Jason had the night off, he stayed at the hotel.” There was an exchange of looks before everyone burst out in laughter. “What?”

“That was the night before, Matt,” Dom chuckled. “You went up to him and told him you had a guy on your back.”

“No, I didn’t, I went straight to you!”

“Man, you really have a shit memory.”

“Yes, Matt, no need to pretend you did it all on your own. We know you’re a bloody hero and don’t need a bodyguard,” Dom Anderson added and caused more laughter and a knowing look between Chris, Dom and Tom.

Matt shook his head again and fidgeted in his seat. “Why are you making shit up?” 

“Nobody is making shit up, you’re all mixed up!” Tom glared at him. “But yeah, well, whatever you say, mate. My nose says fucking thank you either way.” He rubbed over the cast carefully. Chris awww’d at his side and received an elbow to the ribs in return.

“It suits you, mate. At least your nose will finally look decent afterwards,” Dom laughed.

“Speak for yourself. Even breathing fucking hurts.”

The drummer leant over the table and looked at him through long lashes. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

“Piss off. Save the gay talk for your grumpy boyfriend.”

“I’m not fucking grumpy.”

“You are! Thank fuck we don’t have to deal with your mood for the next couple of weeks.” His expression changed into one of mock sympathy. “Except for Dom. The poor guy will have to wipe your princess’ arse every day-“

Matt’s fists hit the table forcefully, the cutlery on the table clattering, and interrupted the photographer abruptly. He’d stood up and his eyes were thunderous when he asked, “Can’t you just fucking shut your mouth for once?”

“Hey, don’t get all pissy with me, you-“

Before another word could be uttered Matt had pushed himself out of the booth, his feet carrying him to the bathrooms located at the other end of the restaurant.

He pushed the door open with angry force and only remembered last second not to slam it shut before he moved to the washbasins. He didn’t bother to look at  himself in the mirror, he knew he looked exhausted. The light traces of the black eye he’d sustained in the club only emphasized that look. He rubbed at his temple.

He could hear the door opening and raised his eyes to the mirror to see Dom entering. The drummer closed the door behind him and leant with his back against it, not advancing on Matt.

“Alright, spill,” he demanded quietly and searched the other man’s face in his reflection. “Something’s bothering you. Apart from the obvious, and with that I mean the club. So tell me.”

“‘tis nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’ve been sleeping terribly this week and whatever people say sets you off. You just snapped at Tom for no reason.”

Matt opened his mouth to protest, but he knew Dom was right, so he closed it again and rubbed at his face, more harshly this time. Dom was next to him in an instant.

“Stop that, you’ll only hurt yourself,” he hissed and turned Matt to him to pull his hands away.

Anger flashed in Matt’s eyes and he was about to shout some abuse when the door swung open again and another restaurant patron entered the bathroom. Dom let go of him and took a couple of steps back, his gaze locked on the exhausted face of his bandmate. Meanwhile, Matt turned on the tap and splashed cool water on his heated skin.

The urinal was flushed and Dom made room for the patron to be able to wash his hands. He glanced at them curiously, but didn’t bother to linger and left as soon as he was done.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Matt finally answered once they were on their own again. “I’m just so tired and stressed and nothing seems to work the way I want it to. And yeah, it’s no secret that thefucking operation going tits up is getting on my nerves, too. I just wanna go home and forget about all of this.”

Dom didn’t say anything, but Matt didn’t need to raise his eyes to know that the drummer was observing him with a worried expression on his face. Getting jaded after a long period of time on the road happened to all of them from time to time, it was part of the cycle. But this leg of the tour hadn’t been very demanding and they loved visiting Asia and South America, places where they didn’t play that often. He’d hoped that the feeling would vanish after the night he’d talked to Dom about it, but if anything, it had only intensified. It worried him that the prospect of going home soon had him way more excited than he’d been the whole tour and he was perfectly aware that it bothered Dom, too.

“This time tomorrow we’ll be sitting on our sofa with a cuppa and a notebook in your hands,” Dom suggested and squeezed his shoulder.

The singer breathed out. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry.”

“And maybe you should also tell M you need a break...”

He didn’t reply. He refused to agree with Dom, it was a matter of principle. He wouldn’t ever admit to being burnt out, not to anyone. With some luck, it would be M suggesting it herself and he could just accept it.

“Let’s go back to the others, yeah?” Dom pulled at his jacket and smirked. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think we sneaked in a quickie, would we?”

That actually brought a smile to Matt’s face. “Would be a shame, indeed.”

Dom and Matt returned together, no one commenting on Matt’s dramatic exit earlier; the latter just opted for sitting quietly in his corner and interacting as little as possible. They finished their meals in silence, only interrupted by Tom’s occasional whimpering and their giggling in response. Once their plates were taken away by a very lovely waitress, they ordered more drinks and soon the volume at the table increased immensely.  

The singer leant his head against the wall behind him, ignoring the bickering and laughter around him, neither sure what had prompted nor cared about it. He closed his eyes. There was a faint melody in the background and, being the music person that he was, he strained his ears to hear it better. It was an upbeat blues tune Matt was sure he’d heard somewhere before. Up until now he hadn’t even realised that the radio was playing, and he grunted in annoyance.

That feeling soon left him, however, when he concentrated on the song and he felt his body going lax, his chest getting lighter. His mind, on the other side, became sharp and focused on the melody.

His hand that was still gripping the wine glass slowly let go and remained limp on top of the table, but he didn’t particularly care. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears. Dom’s laughter next to him was drowned out until there was no voice but the singer’s in his head.

 _So you better run_ , he sang. _Move fast like the bullet from the gun_.

“Yeah,” Matt whispered to no one in particular, nodding his head slightly.

_Over the hills, salvation rests in the sun._

Salvation. Was that what would calm his mind? He felt so tired. He needed to find this place, find his own salvation so he’d get peace. He just needed to let go.

His body felt weightless and free, his mind drifting to a place of infinite nothingness. The music had left his mind, but was replaced by a soft voice. A male voice, calm and familiar, that he felt drawn to like a moth to the light. It was speaking to him, asking him, _commanding_ him-

“Matt?”

His eyes snapped open and he jolted. Heat pooled in his cheeks when he realised everyone at the table was staring at him.

“What?” he asked defensively.

Chris smiled. “I was asking you if you were planning to go to Teignmouth over the break.”

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know, maybe. I guess so, yeah. Have to talk to my mum first.”

Matt blew out a shaky breath when the focus of the group moved away from him again. He chanced a glance at Dom next to him and saw the drummer turned towards him and staring at him intently, no sign of mirth on his features. The others were wound up in their own conversations and Dom leant forward to talk to Matt quietly. 

“What was that?”

Matt honestly didn’t know. He’d felt like he’d left his own body, that’s how little control he had held over himself. It was scary to be so disconnected from himself, yet it also felt incredibly liberating. He looked down at his hands as if they held the answer he needed.

“Just zoned out,” he replied and forced a smile. “Feel pretty full and comfy after food.”

“You got all…” Dom started and articulated weakly until his hand dropped down and landed on the singer’s thigh under the table. “You talked to yourself.”

Matt smirked. “Don’t I all the time?”

Truth was, he couldn’t even remember that he’d done it. Or anything that had happened in that short time. Or how much time had passed in the first place.

“Okay…” Dom nodded uncertainly. He looked down and patted Matt’s thigh before he added, “Guess we both could do with a little holiday.”

Dom then turned around to resume a proper position at the table and immediately joined the conversation Glen and Dom Anderson were holding. Matt blew out some air in relief.

He rubbed the back of his neck and winced. He’d almost forgotten about the wound there, but now that his attention was drawn to it he felt incredibly sore. His muscles contracted instinctively. He carefully rotated his head from one side to the other in slow motion to ease the strain for the time being. Not much he could do about the gash, but he’d get a hot water bottle or a towel if nothing else later at the hotel to ease out the discomfort in the muscles. And sleep. Some proper sleep would do him good. 

***

_London, United Kingdom_

_Thursday, 29th October 2015_

 

A typical October day in London usually meant grey skies and heavy rain. Today was no exception, but that didn’t mean that it dampened the mood of the tourists who milled about to see the beauty of England’s capital or fazed the residents who couldn’t even imagine a different day in autumn. Matt, however, didn’t feel comfortable in the slightest bit.

It was probably the unpleasant meeting he’d had with M just half an hour ago when he had relayed his full report of the mission in Brazil. Not exactly an easy feat after the unsatisfying outcome. Of course M had been furious with him. Not only because he had made an infantile mistake that had cost them the operation, but also because he had risked blowing his cover when he had tried to fix it. If he was being honest, he’d been angry with himself too, but he couldn’t stand the way she’d talked to him. Her lecture had been endless and he’d felt like a child that had caused a false fire alarm at school and was scolded by its mother. He knew perfectly well he’d fucked up, no need for her to mention it over and over again.

But there was something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He zipped up his jacket even higher as he stepped out of his red Mini and locked it to walk back home.

There was a slight pull in his chest and his feet slowed of their own accord while his head turned to look over his shoulder. He continued on, but the same feeling returned and he stopped completely, whipping around to face whoever was following him. A few pedestrians walked around, but nothing suspicious caught his eye. He knew what to look for, and there was no sign anyone was on his track. Shaking his head, Matt stuffed his hands inside his pockets and made his way towards his and Dom’s place.

Just a couple of days ago he had not been able to wait to go home, but now that he was he didn’t feel his mood improving in the slightest. They’d only returned the day before and while Chris had gone straight to Teignmouth, Dom had decided to stay with Matt after the latter had specifically stated he’d rather stay in London for their time off. And yet, Matt felt out of place and restless. He wondered briefly if they should have gone with Chris for a short visit before they started rehearsals for the world tour, but immediately discarded the thought. He couldn’t imagine staying anywhere else at the moment.

Once he stepped onto the porch he checked his surroundings again, just to make sure nobody was trailing him, and then fished for his keys. Unlocking the door, he was immediately hit with the faint smell of spicy cologne. That was unusual. Dom used coconut and vanilla. Matt furrowed his brows.

“Dom?” he called out.

There was no reply and something lodged in his chest, the same feeling he’d had earlier. Dom should have been at home at this time of the day, he’d said he’d cook dinner for them. His gut told him something wasn’t right.

He closed the door slowly and put the keys into its designated bowl as quietly as he could. His brain was already working on hyper speed, going through all possible scenarios, as he tiptoed through the hallway. Having no weapon at his disposal meant Matt had to be extra careful when rounding the corner into the living room. However, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him and he stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a tall, broad man standing at the window sill overlooking the terrace with his back to the singer, his arms spread and his hands holding onto the white marble. He only acknowledged Matt’s presence when the singer gasped loudly. With a chuckle, Richard Sadik in the flesh turned around and smiled wickedly.

“Matthew,” he exclaimed and raised his arms in welcome. “Lovely of you to finally join me. I got a bit bored on my own. How was the tour?”

The brunet in question just stared at him in utter horror, so Sadik continued. “Beautiful home you’ve got, I must admit that. So very like you. I hope my little housewarming gift is to your liking?”

He pointed to the side towards the mantelpiece where a small vase full of flowers, a neatly tied bouquet of sunflowers, was standing.

His brain finally kicking back into action, Matt took a run and tackled him to the ground. The ex-agent didn’t resist and let himself be pinned to the floor, arms up and Matt on top of him. He simply grinned into the other man’s face. He looked as though he hadn’t aged a day since they’d last seen each other, almost a year before, in Turkey where Matt and Dom had foiled his plans.

“You’re dead! I fucking saw you die!” Matt shouted in his face, increasing the pressure on his wrists. “How? How did you do it?”

“The power of love, Matthew. I couldn’t stand to be apart from you.” When the singer just growled at him, Sadik sighed dramatically. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Maybe one day I’ll tell you the truth, but not today.” 

“Where’s Dom? What did you do to him?” The only reply the taller man offered was a shit eating grin and Matt’s anger flared. He hit Sadik’s arms against the floor forcefully. “Answer me!”

“All these years and you still haven’t worked on your anger management,” Sadik stated and then yelped in pain. “Alright, alright. I didn’t do anything to him, he hasn’t graced me with his presence. Yet.”

“I swear to god, if you’re lying-“

Right in that moment there was an audible click of the door and keys rattling. Matt looked to the side and was momentarily distracted, so Sadik used the chance to kick him off.

His body rolled on the floor and hit the leg of the table. Matt groaned in pain, but couldn’t afford to stay down. “Dom!” he shouted. “Stay back, Dom!”

“Matt?”

The drummer soon came into view, two bags of groceries in his arms.

He had to act, and quickly, so he rolled onto his stomach and used his hands to push himself up. However, when he got back on his knees, ready to strike again, the ex-agent was gone. Instead, the door to the terrace was wide open.

Not wasting another second, Matt jumped up and ran over to the door, taking up the chase. He jumped over a small stony ledge to get into the garden, but Sadik was nowhere to be found. He stood right in the middle, his head propelling from one side to the other.

“Come back, you bastard!” he shouted. “Stop being a fucking coward!”

Dom had moved to him at this point and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Matt? Are you alright? What’s going on?”

“He was… It…”

Dom frowned. “He? Who?”

“How could you miss it? Didn’t you see him?”

“No,” the drummer answered uncertainly. “Matt, are you okay?”

He couldn’t tell Dom the truth. If he hadn’t seen him, it meant that Dom was blissfully unaware of the threat. He’d digested their last encounter with the ex-agent pretty well, but Matt didn’t know how much more he could take. It was safer to keep it to himself and figure out his next steps first before he pushed that burden onto Dom’s shoulders.

“Never mind. I thought someone broke into our house, but it must have been a cat or something,” he replied as calmly as he could and turned around. “Let’s go back inside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Come on.”

Dom didn’t seem to believe him exactly, but complied nonetheless. They stepped back inside and Matt double checked that the door was locked while Dom picked up his discarded bags.

“We were out of zucchini,” Dom said while he went into the kitchen. “Wanted to wait until you were home, but it was taking you forever.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair. Dom didn’t know just how lucky he’d been to leave when he had. “That’s okay. Sorry it took so long.”

“‘s okay.” He popped back into the living room to wrap his arms around Matt’s waist and kiss him. “How did it go?”

“Like you’d expect when something goes wrong. Guess I’ll be under supervision for a while,” Matt answered truthfully. “Got assigned to a doctor, as well. As if I needed fucking therapy.”

“A doctor? For what?”

“She says I need to calm down and get my mind straight so nothing like in Brazil happens again. Bollocks.”

Dom’s lips turned downwards. “I’m sorry, love. I’m sure it’s only temporary. But hey, you’re getting your break, right?” He smiled at the thought. Matt needed that rest.

He only grunted and leant his head on Dom’s shoulder. The drummer mimicked the motion and put his chin on Matt’s bony shoulder. It was then that his eyes fell on the vase of flowers.

“For me?” he asked and pointed at them when Matt looked at him questioningly. “That’s so gay.”

“Yeah,” Matt lied. He just had to keep everything as unsuspicious as possible to keep Dom out of harm’s way. “Saw them on the way back, but we can just throw them out if you don’t like them.”

Dom sniffed. “Nah. I love sunflowers. Thank you.” He gave him another quick peck on the lips before he disentangled himself and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna get dinner ready, you can just sit down and relax. You had a bad day.”

Matt just stood there and stared at the flowers that would taunt him for the rest of the evening.

 


	5. 005

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you all had a great Christmas and entered the New Year in the best possible way! 
> 
> We took a little break from posting, apologies for the delay. Thanks to everyone who has been following this adventure, things are about to get dark(er). Because of that, make sure you've read the warnings. Other than that, we hope you enjoy :)

_London, United Kingdom_

_Friday, 30th October 2015_

 

It was a feather-light caress down his back that gently brought Matt out of a pleasant sleep. He didn’t move, basking in the slumber instead, and soon realised that the touch he felt was the sheet sliding down his body. Lower and lower, there was a minor pause in anticipation when it uncovered the small of his back, but then continued in the same agonizingly slow pace. Baring his arse and his thighs, it was finally pulled to the side once it reached the back of his knees, leaving his nude body fully exposed.

His heartbeat picked up, but he remained in the same position - lying on his stomach with his eyes closed. He wondered with an undeniable thrill what Dom would have in mind. The mattress dipped on the side opposite to where his face was turned to. This time, it wasn’t the sheet but a finger that touched first the back of his neck and then ghosted down over his spine, tracing the same path the sheet had taken previously. He shuddered and swallowed when the tip of the finger stopped, much like the sheet had, before it reached his backside. It gingerly glided down the middle of his cheeks almost without contact and Matt suppressed the impulse to push back to feel him more intensely. Blood coursed through his veins, seemingly with a single destination, as the finger dropped to the inside of one thigh, drawing circles on the tender skin, before it pulled away completely.

The weight behind Matt shifted and he felt Dom’s presence now lingering above him. His lips parted instinctively when - after the sheet at first and then the finger - a soft, warm breath blew against the skin at the nape of his neck. He rubbed his face against the pillow, exhaling open mouthed against the fabric when the hot breath licking at the skin of his back began to make its way down. When it halted above his arse, however, the light touch of a hand rested over the curve of his right buttock. He could barely feel the shape of the fingers, but it was like being branded with a hot iron. By now, he was painfully aroused and wanted more.

“Mmm!”

He bit down on the pillow, following suit the set of teeth that had just sunk down on one of his cheeks. His muscles tightened instinctively and he moaned softly at the small swipe of moist tongue over the abused flesh. 

Stretching out his arms, he placed them around the pillow and slid his knees apart on the sheets, unabashedly inviting Dom to crawl between his legs. The other man moved slowly to comply, but all motion ceased afterwards. Matt could feel the penetrating gaze on his body and couldn’t help but roll his hips down into the mattress, aching forcontact. All was still and blue eyes fluttered open. The wall was adorned with a blurry shadow of the human figure above him, resultant of the glow provided by the lamps outside in the garden that filtered through the sheer curtains of their bedroom.

Suddenly, Dom slung an arm around his waist to yank his hips up and bent over his form. Matt gasped at the abrupt action and squeezed his eyes shut tightly when the man on top drove his hard length inside him in one swift, forceful motion. It was unexpected, and the pain almost knocked the wind out of him. There was no time to react, though, because Dom pulled out and repeated the motion in the same manner, roughly shoving his erection deep inside him with a grunt. Matt moaned in discomfort against the bedsheets and instinctively threw an arm out to place his hand on the bed and search for leverage, his whole body tensing up.

“Dom!” he blurted. "Dom, slow down…”

But Dom didn’t reply. Instead he lowered himself on top of Matt, sheathing him with his body heat while still buried in him, and rested his face against Matt’s neck. The grazing of facial hair felt inexplicably unfamiliar but still familiar at the same time, and a horrible sinking feeling claimed Matt. He gulped when the other man dropped two kisses on the skin below his earbefore he moved upwards. His lips brushed the shell of it, punctuated with another violent thrust.

“Oh, my little prince _._ How I’ve missed you.” 

It was as though Matt’s world had spun off axis. There was a split moment of pure, extreme shock, wherein he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that it was Richard Sadik on top of him, inside him, and how could he have possibly missed from the start that it wasn’t Dom touching and arousing him, followed by absolute horror as he immediately tried to push back and throw him off to no avail. His former partner had anticipated his response by pinning his body down to the bed with his own, effectively stopping all his efforts. A big hand clamped over his mouth.

“Shhh, behave, don’t push me out…” He thrust in again and Matt growled against his hand, a mix of fury and desperation. “Don’t fight me, Matthew, I don’t want to injure you. Open your mind and let me take you the way I know you want to. I know you’ve missed this too.” 

He howled in wrath, but all his protests were stifled by the powerful clasp covering his mouth, his voice absorbed by the flesh and reverberating in circles inside his own skull. He wanted to bite, but he couldn’t even move his jaw.

“Have you forgotten how much pleasure I gave you? I haven’t, Matthew, and I can give you so much more of the same... I can still hear you in my mind, how desperately you wanted to take it, how you begged for it.”

It was like his limbs were paralysed. No matter how much he kicked back and willed them to obey his demands, they wouldn’t react. He seemed to be struggling with an opponent ten times more powerful than him.  

“And my God,” Sadik didn’t stop. “You still feel the same. It’s like not a day has gone by. Tight and sweet, just like back then. Tell me your secret, _sevgilim_ , how does a whore like you still manage to keep such a tight little arsehole?”

He kept moving on top of him like a bull, every thrust a stab that dug into his core and drained him of all his energy, consumed his entire body. But the words hurt more, if possible. Every sickening memory which was ripped to the surface felt like a blow to the stomach and no matter how hard he tried to block out Sadik’s voice, it still pierced him unrelentlessly and with no mercy.

He refused to submit despite the brutal pain inflicted with each attempt at freedom. But he was huffing with exhaustion and suddenly realised that, more than anything, he was battling to breathe. The weight on top of him was forcing his neck to bend back in an unnatural angle and the more effort he put into trying to lift his face from the pillow to be able to get air into his lungs, the more difficult it all became. Soon, his head was swimming and the room spiralled around him. At that point, oxygen was all that mattered.

“Very well, I knew you’d get to it. Relax... I like your defiance, but I like it even more when I break it. You were only hurting yourself, isn’t it so much better like this?”

The hand that blocked his airways was gone and Matt gasped, filling his lungs. He coughed into the pillow, but recoiled weakly at the hand that now rested on his head, stroking his hair. A thin, sharp cord strained around his throat and he prepared himself to be choked again. But Sadik had only pulled on the necklace he wore and the sound of metallic small plates jingled in the air.

“I like these dog tags, it’s a good look on you. Naked, wearing just these, showing who you belong to. Mmm, so hot.”

He could feel Sadik putting them in his mouth before he bent down to nuzzle at the side of his neck. The singer’s stomach churned when he felt his tongue on him, licking his skin.

“S-stop, get off me… get the fuck off me…”

He could barely hear himself. Sadik laughed and lifted his upper body a fraction. Matt realised he had released his wrists from where he’d restrained them, crushed against his lower back, but they were completely numb and he couldn’t move them. He whimpered in frustration and Sadik grabbed them to stretch his arms up and lay them on the mattress as if he were a rag doll. He adjusted himself on top of Matt, sinking further into him, and then covered Matt’s arms with his, holding his wrists down again.

“It’s deeper now, so good…” he rasped in his ear. “I can feel it in you, Matthew, I can feel the wetness. And you were all filthy down there, dry come all over your skin. Who was it? Who fucked you before I arrived, Matthew? Precious Dominic?” The pace increased and the unmistakable sound of balls slapping against skin was too loud in Matt’s ears.“Or did you find someone else to keep you entertained? Another tasty cock to suck, so you don’t get bored?”

Matt wished he could detach himself from what was happening, for it to become like an out of body experience. But he felt every inch of Sadik’s cock and its shape. He was sure he was bleeding as it tore through him and stretched him painfully. He felt every single hair brushing against his skin, the other man’s strength and his heat, the sweat dripping from his hair onto his back. Every sensation was magnified and Matt was powerless to fight it, utterly spent. The sensual hands which had sent him reeling before were now large and sweaty, and he twitched in revulsion and self-loathing as Sadik forced one wrist beneath his body to reach for his cock, touching him intimately without his consent. More than anything, he’d have to live with the humiliation forever.

“I never bore you, do I? You love this. My God, yes. Yes, take it. That’s it, moan for me… Take my cock all the way in, you little whore. You little cock-sucking whore.

“Out of all your talents, Matthew, this has always been my favourite. You wouldn’t need to do anything but lay down and spread your legs for me and I’d want you all the same.

“You’re mine forever, Matthew, I will never let you go... Never!”

Laughter rang in his ears and all he wanted to do was to scream, scream, scream-

Matt bolted up in bed.

His heart was racing, his breathing was out of control and he was covered in sweat as if he’d just ran a million miles. He took big gulps of air as he observed his surroundings in distress. There was still daylight. Only slowly, he recalled how he’d just remained in bed after he had gone upstairs with Dom for a bit of fun, opting for a nap while the drummer had gone out for a couple of interviews to promote the upcoming tour. He was alone in the bedroom and there was no trace of anyone else. He breathed out heavily. It had been a nightmare, just that.

The singer lifted trembling hands to his eyes, wanting to scrub them and the entire top layer of his skin. He realised his face was wet and it took him a split second to identify the cause. Wiping at his cheeks furiously, he threw the bedclothes off him and immediately jumped out of the bed. Matt wavered for a few moments, desperately wanting to move and busy himself, but unsure how. His knees were shaking like leaves and he was itching all over. He scratched at his neck, half expecting to find a necklace there, the urge to pull it off strong. However, there was no chain. He hadn’t worn a necklace for the last couple of months.  

He found himself walking to the en suite bathroom. Avoiding the mirror like the plague, unable to face his pathetic self, he simply stood underneath the shower and got the water running. His body reacted with shudders to the freezing cold temperature on his burning skin, but he hardly noticed it. Closing his eyes, he leant his head against the tiles and let the tears fall freely.

***

_London, United Kingdom_

_Saturday, 31st October 2015_

 

Bending at the waist, Matt placed his hands on his hips and dropped his head forward, catching his breath, before he moved on to some stretching exercises.

He felt eyes on him and a quiet crackling approaching, which made him tense up and concentrate on the sound more carefully. Only a pair of joggers going by, it seemed. He tracked them discreetly until they were out of his sight and only when he was absolutely sure they didn’t pose a threat did he continue with his stretching fully relaxed.

It was too quiet at Regent’s Park that morning. Usually nobody gawked or stopped him for pictures or autographs there, although he could sense fellow joggers or bikers observing him once in awhile. It was as though there was an unspoken rule about granting someone peace and quiet in their morning workout, no matter who they were. But today he didn’t feel at ease and he constantly looked over his shoulder. The lack of visitors in the gardens bothered him for some reason. Even most of the regulars seemed to have skipped their daily run.

He hadn’t told Dom where he’d been headed for, but he didn’t have to; the drummer had seen him leave in his jogging gear. And he really didn’t want to talk to him. He could barely explain it to himself, but he was growing sick of the apprehension he saw in the grey eyes, of the careful questions about his well being. Yes, he realised something wasn’t quite right, but he just wanted to be left alone to try to sort it out, not getting prodded all the time about it. It turned into annoyance. Just like the night before, when Dom had asked him if everything was alright upon arriving home. Indeed, Matt had been stressed out beyond belief after that nightmare, but he was _not_ going to tell any of that to Dom, and so he had tried to dismiss his concern with all the fake casualty he could muster. However, he wasn’t sure how successful he had been at deflecting the questions, despite Dom not pressing any further.

He was losing his mind. He was so sure he’d seen Richard Sadik in his living room a couple of days before. But he could also swear the disturbing events in the bedroom the night prior had been very real. He could still feel his touch on his skin… and yet, there was no doubt that he had experienced no more than a very vivid nightmare. Had the house invasion also been a dream? Had he imagined it? Everything pointed towards that. Dom appeared to not to have seen anything out of the ordinary and he'd searched the house meticulously when the drummer hadn’t been around. There had been no sign of a break in, not even footprints outside in the garden or fingerprints on the windowsill. If he distanced himself from the situation and looked at it critically and objectively, how logical was the survival of the criminal?

He’d been wracking his brains, wondering how to proceed after Sadik seemed to have defied death again, whether to tell M or not, how to best protect Dom, how to catch the former agent... But deep down he knew better and that was why he had had so many doubts over sharing this information with M and attempted to find evidence instead - Sadik had been killed almost a year ago in Turkey, he couldn’t have possibly survived this time. She would think he'd gone mad. A part of him was convinced he’d seen him, though, and there was nothing worse than doubting your own senses. How could he trust himself to make any sort of decision if he couldn’t trust his own eyes?

And if he had indeed dreamed it, other questions had to be raised. Where had the vase of sunflowers come from? How come he hadn’t realised he had been dreaming and when had he fallen asleep and when had he woken up? Maybe upon Dom’s arrival? None of it made any sense. Most of all, why was he dreaming about it now, and so vividly? What had prompted this sudden resurfacing in his mind of things he wanted nothing more than to forget?  

Maybe he should tell that doctor he was seeing about this, he had another appointment soon. He didn’t feel well, that much was certain. Rather, he didn’t feel like _himself_. There were moments when he genuinely felt pages of his mind had been completely wiped out.  

He pursed his lips. No, he wasn’t going to tell anyone about it, certainly not a doctor who was going to have him do another million exams in addition to those he already had to put up with. He couldn’t trust anyone with this. He’d work it out himself, without anyone at his back.

***

When Matt had come back from jogging in the morning and didn’t seem very open to making plans for the day, Dom had assumed that would mean a lazy day lounging on the couch together with Netflix. They had already agreed to spend Halloween at home and not to go to any party this year, so he wouldn’t have minded that.

He’d guessed the couch part correctly, but not much else. Matt had sat on one end of their sofa, squeezed against the armrest with a tower of cushions between them and had been on the tablet all day, ignoring Dom completely.

It was frustrating, but he knew better than to try to get his attention when he was in one of these moods. Maybe he was doing some work, but if so, it pissed him off a bit as Matt had told him, though in no uncertain terms, that he’d take a break from M’s demands. The phones were quiet for once, they were home and had the day all to themselves and hadn’t enjoyed it as he had hoped for.

So when he received a text from a couple of mates, reminding him of the invitation to spend Halloween at a new pub nearby, he didn’t think twice about agreeing to join them. His skeleton one piece was a classic and would do the job without requiring more fuss in the costume department.

“Who are you going with?” Matt asked immediately when he showed up in the living room, almost ready to go.

Hands on his hips, Dom stared at him with his brow furrowed. It wasn’tthe question that bothered him, not at all, but the suspicious manner in which he had put it. “If you come with me, you’ll see who invited us.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“So?”

“Oh, so you don’t wanna tell me?” 

“Course not, I’m hiding things from you.”

Matt pouted and shrunk deeper into the couch, but didn’t say anything else. Dom left without another word.

***

It was almost four in the morning when he came home, slightly tipsy but sober enough to be quiet. The lights were all down, so he was extra careful when opening the door to make as little noise as possible. Matt was probably awake in the dark somewhere in the house, but if he was asleep, Dom didn’t want to wake him up. He tiptoed to the living room first and relaxed when he saw, with the help of the moonlight, Matt’s legs stretched out on the lounge chair. As he got closer, he realised the smaller man was indeed asleep, his head fallen to one side, his phone dropped from his hand to the brown cushion. The temperature was very low inside the house and he only had a long sleeved shirt on. He was probably freezing.    

Dom walked behind him with a smile and slid his hands over his shoulders gently, bending over to lean his cheek on Matt’s. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but one moment he was embracing the singer from behind, the next he was flat on his back on the floor near the lounge chair, an agonising pain shooting from his left wrist.

“Fuck!” he shouted, sitting up and folding over, holding the injured spot.

The lights were on in an instant and Matt knelt next to him on the floor.

“Stop. Stop it, let me see it.”

He winced in pain, but allowed Matt to check his wrist. He palpated the area with the pads of his fingers and turned it over in his hand. Leaving without a word, he soon came back with a pack of ice and a cloth and held it against the injured area.

“It’s not sprained, it’s just bruised.”

His voice was soft, but there was still an edge to it and he kept his eyes down, not facing the drummer. Dom rotated his head around in a wide circle, trying to shake away the scare. He realised his back was also sore and so was his backside. It was obvious now that he’d woken Matt up, who had pulled him over the chair and straight on to the floor. It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten hurt for real.

“Jesus, Matt, what the fuck was that for? Are you trying to cancel the rest of the tour this year?” He opened and closed his hand and shook his wrist gently, but Matt kept holding the ice to it and didn’t let him move more than that.

“Sorry.”

“You could’ve snapped my wrist in two, you idiot. Try not to do this to anyone on our next flight, alright?”

“I said I was sorry. I woke up and thought… I freaked out a little. I didn’t realise it was you.”

“Yeah, I kinda gathered that part.” He sighed.

Matt sat down next to him, hunched forward and was noticeably upset. He removed the ice after a bit and looked at Dom. “Better?”

Dom shook the limb gently and moved it around. “Maybe best not to put too much strain on it the next few days, yeah?” Matt nodded mutely at that and Dom cupped the side of his face. There was a slight flinch in return, so he stroked his cheek with his thumb. “Hey, it’s fine. Forget it.”

He leant forward to wrap his arms around him and then rubbed the singer’s back to relieve the tension he found in his body and reached for his mouth. Dom pressed his lips against Matt’s softly, and only after some hesitation did Matt begin to reciprocate. They exchanged a few more kisses, things slowly heating up, and Dom slid one arm around his waistto pull Matt down with him. There was a small bout of resistance, but the other man finally allowed himself to be dragged down. Dom tried to coax him to turn over, but this time Matt didn’t budge.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think think I’m doing?” He covered Matt’s mouth with his, but the singer wasn’t thwarted.

“Here?”

Dom pulled back and stared at him in disbelief. “Since when do you have a problem with the carpet? Are you 37 or 73?” Matt didn’t reply and Dom lowered himself on top of him again. “Chill out, why are you so tense?”

“I’m not tense.”

“You are,” he insisted and kissed him again, one of his hands seeking out Matt’s hair and pulling at it playfully. “Let me help. I can be Dominic, The Dominator, and spank that out of you, how’s that?”

He’d been sure that would crack a smile out of Matt, if not a giggle, but there wasn’t as much as a blink in return. Instead, the smaller man tried to sit up, forcing Dom to move aside. The drummer tried to stop him and held him down by the shoulders, which only prompted Matt to struggle more.

“Stop.”

“Come on, Matt,” Dom whispered against his collarbone, his left hand travelling down to his stomach. “What’s wrong? Relax.”

“Stop it. Get the fuck away from me!”

He couldn’t react fast enough when his hands were slapped away, his body suddenly propelling backwards and hitting the lounge chair. Matt was already on his feet and Dom stared up at him with wide eyes, shocked to the core. He couldn’t remember Matt ever addressing him in that tone of voice. He watched him as he walked away, only halting near the door.

“You should apply ice to that wrist to make sure it doesn’t swell. Fifteen minutes should do.”

And he left.

 


	6. 006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ever say we're not nice ;p

_ London, United Kingdom _

_ Sunday, 1st November 2015 _

 

Knife in hand, Dom paused when he heard the front door. Matt was back, it seemed. He resumed his current task of chopping vegetables on the board, perhaps harsher than he intended. He liked cooking, it distracted him. And fortunately his wrist was feeling better because tonight he’d be cooking for a dozen, as they had invited friends over. The menu was ambitious; maybe a result of the tension between him and Matt in the past few days.

He still didn’t know what to think of the previous night's ‘incident’. He couldn’t remember Matt ever acting like that with him. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but the fact that Matt had been clearly uncomfortable made him uneasy and the feeling of guilt haunted him, the discomfort aggravated by the complete unawareness of what had caused it. Rejection had never felt worse. It was more than rejection, it was… aversion.

He heard Matt approaching with light steps. He didn’t turn around and continued working instead, now proceeding to slice the fruit he’d selected for the pie he would bake. Matt walked around the centre island with a strange dragging to his steps and stopped right behind him. From shoulders to hips, he pressed himself against Dom, their bodies fitting together like a perfect puzzle, and slid his arms around his waist. Open hands felt over Dom’s t-shirt and the slicing of fruit slowed down.

“What are you doing?”

Matt all but purred in Dom’s ear and it was enough to make the drummer smile. He knew that tone of voice far too well. Did this mean that whatever had bothered him the night before was gone?

“What does it look like, Matt? You didn’t forget we’ve got guests tonight, did you?”

There was a soft kiss to the side of his neck and curious hands crept up his chest. “Put that down and come with me?"

There were no words to explain Dom’s relief. Maybe the moment was slightly inconvenient, but it didn’t matter to him. He settled back into Matt’s embrace and turned his head to the side. They exchanged light kisses before Dom returned his attention to the fruit. Matt didn’t seem happy to stop and whined in protest.

“I’d love to Matt, but if I stop now I’ll delay everything.”

“So what?” His lips brushed the side of Dom’s neck, effortlessly sparking off a shudder. 

“So,” he started, as if talking to a child. “We won’t have food to put on the table.”

“We can skip right to the dessert.”

“Thought you’d be in the mood for some meat?”

“Oh, I am…”

The hot breath caressing Dom’s ear was replaced by the damp touch of Matt’s tongue tracing the shell of his ear before he sucked the earlobe in his mouth with a low satisfied moan. Dom’s fingers became lax around the knife and he closed his eyes, his body naturally leaning into the touch. When he felt Matt’s hands under the t-shirt on his stomach, however, trying to turn him around in his arms, the drummer laughed and stood his ground.

“You’re distracting me, Matt. I’m gonna end up chopping off a finger, you know?”

Matt only hummed in his ear and started pulling him backwards as though that was the most logical solution to the problem. “Then come back later. I need you now, Dom. Come to bed with me...” His fingers dipped below Dom’s waistline and had unbuckled his belt before Dom could utter a word of protest.

“Matt,” Dom chuckled and used his elbows to push his hands away. “I mean it. I’m sorry?”

His words had the opposite effect intended. Matt only wrapped himself tighter around him and purred into his ear, the tip of his nose rubbing against the strands of hair behind his ear.

“Don’t you want me, Dom? Am I not good enough? I promise I’ll be good… I’ll be so good to you, Dom, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

Dom arched an eyebrow, undeniably pleased but also amused, slightly puzzled by all that urgency. Was Matt drunk? He sometimes became a little too enthusiastic when he drank too much. But there was no smell of alcohol.

“Dom…” he moaned again, right before his hands covered Dom’s crotch.

“Wait. Wait, Matt, listen.” 

He turned around with his arms open as he still had his fingers dripping with juice, fully intending on making things clearer. Matt’s eyes were like blue headlights pinning him to the spot. Pupils blown wide with a glazed look in them, he robbed Dom of all capacity to speak. Matt’s gaze was inscrutable when it swerved to the side to one of his hands. He then closed his fingers around Dom’s wrist, gently pulling it to him and the drummer furrowed his brow. Matt brought it up to his mouth - and flattened his tongue on the palm of his hand, licking a full path up to the tip of his finger. 

“Tastes good... I think I’ll enjoy what you’re cooking for dinner.” He looked up at Dom from under his lashes and again the tip of his tongue poked out to swirl around a finger, pushing between his digits where the fruit's sweet moisture had pooled. He then sucked Dom’s middle finger. “Mmmm, yes. Approved.”

Dom swallowed, his brain suddenly lethargic and foggy, his trousers tighter. He could take a break for a few minutes, couldn’t he? Just then, the kitchen timer rang and he jolted. 

"Shit."

He quickly grabbed a cloth to clean his hands and stepped aside to check the bowl in the oven. He added the vegetables to the mix and stirred, his head clearing and conscious thinking slowly returning. When he turned back, he found Matt leaning against the centre island, gripping the edge. His legs were crossed at the ankles in a seemingly casual manner, but the tilt of his head to one side and the small smile stretching at the corner of his mouth told a different story.

"Christ, Matt,” Dom was almost begging. “Can we save this for later? You know I really fucking want to, but I can’t let dinner burn. Which is exactly what’s gonna happen.”

Matt pouted and kicked at the floor before shuffling to leave, fingers sliding over the marble surface as he went past. But instead of heading to the doorway, Matt went around the island and, his back now to Dom since he was on the the other side of the counter, he propped himself up to sit on top of it. He lied down across the surface, his head dangling backwards from the edge of the counter.

“What are you doing..?” Dom's voice sounded hoarse, even to himself.

“You told me to piss off so I’ve got no choice but to have fun on my own. You don’t mind if I stay here, do you?”

The sharp contrast of the way he was teasing him so obscenely while sounding as soft as if he'd just woken up from a long, deep sleep, was doing Dom's head in. He didn’t know what had gotten into Matt, but he looked like fucking dessert, spread on the table like that, and there was no one to interrupt a feast. He couldn't help but watch as Matt bent his knees to rest his feet on the counter, his legs spread wide and inviting, and then slipped a hand down his trousers. He raised his head, apparently to check what he was doing, but then he dropped it back with a moan. Their eyes locked, upside down.

“You’re still being," Dom cleared his throat, the words thick and difficult to get out, “very distracting.”

Distracting was the understatement of the year, he considered. Debauched didn't cover it, and the offender was fully clothed.

Dom’s mind started to conjure up possibilities and he found himself wondering what Matt would look like if he was wearing no trousers at all. Matt was rubbing himself languidly now, his chest rising and falling, and Dom swallowed hard when he saw his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Dom… Do you want me to keep doing this? Or do you wanna fuck me? Should I bend over the table for you, Dom? Which way do you like me better?”

The docile, submissive tone was driving him absolutely mental. Matt never acted like this; it was novel and the effect on Dom was devastating. Fuck it, why was he even fighting it - and with himself? He was home, with a very horny boyfriend begging him for sex. Fuck dinner, the food could wait.

He walked to Matt, stopping just behind his bandmate. His crotch was level with the counter, he realised. Placing his hands on each side of Matt’s head, he bent down to join their mouths like that, upside down. Matt accepted it eagerly, but then his hands began patting blindly over Dom's clothes, finally reaching the fly of his trousers. The drummer’s knees nearly faltered when Matt slid it down and tugged weakly at his underwear before looping an arm around his neck, encouraging him to dip forward. Dom acceded and broke the kiss to support himself on his elbows, one each side of Matt's body, facing down his stomach. He allowed the other man to drag his underwear and trousers down his thighs and shifted his feet on the floor to adjust his position. He hissed when Matt curled a hand around him and stroked a few times. Teeth grazed his dick lightly when a hot mouth covered him. He rocked his hips to push deeper and groaned in satisfaction; the angle was perfect. Matt groaned back around him, swallowing audibly and suppressing a cough, and Dom immediately pulled back.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He let Matt take control instead, and guide him in and out of his mouth by his hips, the position making it risky to thrust. But it was hard not to, the temptation to just shove in and stuff that tiny but perfect mouth so strong. 

The slide of lips tightly locked around his cock, the strokes of his tongue lapping at the head and swirling around his shaft… It all brought him to new heights. And God, was Matt vocal. Each time Dom’s length was swallowed, he moaned, each sucking motion was filthy wet and loud. When he urged Dom to thrust shallowly into his mouth, the little noises of breath hitching at the back of his throat and gagging filled the kitchen. Dom dropped his head and his sweaty forehead landed on Matt’s body. He could feel the other man’s arousal, could smell him through the jeans and he wished he could just unzip him and return the favour exactly like that, suck him while fucking his mouth in that position. He should be able to do it. He should be, but he wasn’t. Days of increasing tension between the two of them had resulted in an absolute lack of control on his part. He felt devoid of all rational thinking and conscious acting, as if he were a mere puppet with Matt pulling the strings. And yet at the same time, he couldn't help but feel like Matt was simply yearning for him to take over. 

He withdrew and stepped back, struggling to stay upright, his knees hindered by the trousers which had slipped down his legs and made movement more difficult. He instigated Matt to spin around and face him. Matt was obedient and sat up before he turned around, Dom half pulling him by his legs too. The singer was a mess of red and wet, swollen lips, a string of saliva on his chin. He tried to wriggle out of his trousers, which Dom helped him with by pulling at their legs, peeling the shirt over his head next and leaving him only in socks with little black sheep. Matt let his feet fall to the the floor and stood on his toes, arching into Dom to kiss him enthusiastically, his backside sticking out. Possessed with a sense of ownership after Matt’s blatant display of offering, Dom gripped his buttocks tight to mark him and let him know his place. Matt moaned and guided one of Dom’s hands between their bodies, grinding against him.

He turned around and leant over the counter, pushing his arse against Dom’s crotch desperately. The drummer bent over his form and showered him with kisses on the back of his neck while he brushed his fingers over his opening in circles. 

“Dom, please… please don’t leave me waiting, Oh God, please…”

Even with Matt rubbing back against him, all he could see in his head was the picture from before, of him spread out on the counter. “Do you wanna turn around for me, Matt? Lie on your back.”

The singer was up on the marble surface again in no time, pulling Dom between his thighs by wrapping his legs around his waist. 

Dom was sure that a neighbour must have heard Matt when he had pushed into him, slow and deep, a high-pitched, drawn-out whine unlike anything he’d ever heard Matt do in the bedroom. 

He pumped inside him again and again, Matt crying out at each thrust of hips, then panting loudly when his voice gave out, his chest heaving with the heavy breathing. Dom’s hands gripped his hips firmly, keeping him in place as he fucked him, trousers now pooling around his ankles on the floor. 

He pulled out when he realised he couldn’t hold back any longer and Matt’s whimpers of protest at the loss of contact only quietened when he took him in his fist and finished him off, the smaller man’s back arching up from the counter. Only then did he allow himself release. 

White fluid glistened on Matt’s skin, his boyfriend’s long fingers smearing it on his stomach almost absentmindedly. Dom collapsed next to him afterwards, face down. 

He only glanced aside again when he felt Matt moving. Panting, with one arm over his eyes, he was still cupping his own cock with the other hand. Out of nowhere, he broke the silence in the kitchen, his chest heaving with giggles.

The sound of Matt’s laughter usually filled Dom with joy, but this time it spawned only an unpleasant pull in his stomach. All arousal gone after having been tended to so thoroughly, he suddenly felt very empty and hollow. He didn't know why, but it had felt like he'd been lured by a stranger. Suddenly, he felt disgusted with himself and incredibly guilty. That hadn’t been Matt, not the one he slept with every night and with whom he shared a life. But before he could even start to dwell on it, the timer rang again, alerting him to the pan in the stove that required his attention. He pulled his trousers up hastily and lunged towards the sink, trying not to trip over his own feet. Quickly, he shoved his hands under the tap to wash them.

“Aww, no special ingredient tonight, Dom?”

Another high pitched, tired little laugh followed and Dom had to bite his tongue.

“Can you just go upstairs and get dressed? If you’re not gonna help me, then at least try not to disturb, can you do that?”

“Do I really need to get dressed? Clothes just get in the way, you know?”

“You’re gonna get a shower and then get dressed, yeah.”

“Shower, yes… oh, yeah, I’m in for that. But I’m gonna miss you and that big cock of yours in the shower, Dom.”

“Can you just fucking  _ go _ already?!”

He regretted it straight away, but Dom couldn't help it. He was angry and wanted to lash out at Matt and get him out of his sight. He was feeling like shit and wasn't even sure why.

“Please don’t get mad at me, I only wanted to make you feel good…”

Dom looked over his shoulder again in utter bewilderment - Matt seemed genuinely distressed that he had been yelled at. 

“I do everything to please you, Dom, everything. But don’t worry… if it’s my fault that dinner is delayed, then I will do my very best to entertain our guests while you finish stuff.”

He calmly collected his clothes and shuffled out, holding the pile in his arms. 

Dom blew out a breath and covered his eyes with his hands. 

***

_ London, United Kingdom _

_ Monday, 2nd November 2015 _

 

The TV was on, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the screen. Dom stared unblinkingly at it, sipping the strong tea he’d brewed, the hot mug between his hands not providing nearly as much warmth as he wished for. 

Matt had still been fast asleep when he had woken up earlier in the morning. Sprawled on his stomach, the sheet barely covering him from the waist down, he was the picture of exhaustion and Dom was so relieved he at least seemed to be having a good night of sleep for once that he almost forgave him for the events of the night before.

If what had happened in the kitchen hadn’t been disconcerting enough, the rest of the evening had left him unsettled in a way he didn’t remember feeling in a long time. Thankfully, nobody had taken Matt seriously and they’d all laughed, probably just believing one of their hosts to be either drunk or high on some substance. Matt had seemed to have completely forgotten inhibitions and the concepts of personal space or manners. He had opined on Som’s girlfriend’s boobs, groped Andy’s arse (with both hands) to prove a point about fitness, had explained to everyone in rich detail the reason why Dom was late with dinner. He’d boldly crawled into his lap on the couch, almost making a scene in front of everyone, had latched onto his neck and his mouth at every opportunity. 

He’d fallen asleep with his head on Dom’s shoulder before the guests had begun to leave. And once they had and Dom had woken him up to move upstairs, he’d collapsed into bed without giving Dom the slightest chance to tell him off for being an absolute embarrassment the entire night. 

The more he thought of it, the less he understood. Matt had been edgy for days and incredibly cold and distant since the day before. Then suddenly he arrived home and it was like a different man stood in his place. It was a roller coaster, and if at first Dom thought it was stress when they had been on tour or jetlag when they had returned, it was all starting to be a bit too much. He hated himself for even considering it and he desperately wished he was wrong, but the idea was niggling at the back of his mind. Was Matt taking anything behind his back? He’d been restless for so long, what if he had caved and tried to control it with the help of some substance, and it was disrupting everything else?

There was some rustling coming from the hall and he looked over just in time to see Matt arriving and leaning heavily against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes as if he wanted to gouge them out of their sockets.

“Morning,” he mumbled sleepily.

Dom’s gaze moved up and down his frame. He’d put on a t-shirt - inside out - over the boxers. His hair was all over the place and he yawned, then facing Dom. He still looked exhausted, dark bags under his eyes and not at all rested like Dom had expected or at least hoped to find him. If anything, he looked even worse.

“Morning,” he finally replied.

Matt rubbed his eyes again and stepped inside the room. His legs brushed past Dom’s and he sat next to him, grabbing Dom’s mug off the coffee table where the drummer had just placed it to get a sip himself. He then looked around to acknowledge the state of the living room. His attention fell to a particular spot on the carpet, a big red stain  on it , and his head cocked to the side in confusion.

“Wonder how that happened,” he muttered before taking another sip of tea and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“You should know,” Dom replied, his voice clipped. “You were the one who spilled wine there.”

Matt swerved his eyes towards him, forehead full of creases. “I spilled wine there?” He waited for confirmation, but Dom’s stony silence was probably enough. “You sure? When?”

“What else have you forgotten from last night? Or,” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned his body to Matt. “What  _ do _ you remember?”

Gaze downcast, Matt swallowed and fidgeted with the teaspoon and Dom realised the previous night was probably no more than a blank page in his head. His earlier train of thought came back to him.

“Are you taking anything?”

“What?” Matt blurted, instantly turning to him.

“You heard me well and you know exactly what I mean.”

“Are you taking the piss?!” His nostrils flared and he looked furious at the question. “What kind of fucking question is that?”

“Is that a no?”

“Of course it’s a fucking no, you bellend, I can’t believe you’re asking me that!” 

He ignored Matt’s rising voice. “It’s a legit question. What’s going on, Matt? You’ve been a mess lately! You don’t sleep, you’re always on edge. One day you’re distant as fuck, the next you drag me on top of you in the bloody kitchen and… What the bloody hell is going on? I don’t recognise you anymore.”

“Oh, fuck you! I’ve got a headache, I don’t have to fucking deal with your shit!”

He stormed up from the couch, but Dom walked after him.

“A headache, again? See what I mean? Are you ill?” He paused when Matt paused too, the singer grabbing his head and rubbing his hair and neck. “Yeah, I’m fucking pissed off, Matt, and I’m worried as hell and you don’t give a shit.”

He saw Matt dropping his arms to the sides and closing his fists. His body seemed to be rigid with tension and Dom prepared himself for the incoming explosion. However, nothing happened. Matt simply continued his way upstairs and Dom only heard the bathroom door being shut. He shook his head and covered his face with his hands. 

Only a few minutes later he heard the bathroom door opening again and Matt stomped into the bedroom, throwing the door shut again. He debated what to do now. His fingers clawed around the handle of the mug and he thought about smashing it out of sheer frustration. Instead, he took some deep, calming breaths and steeled himself for confrontation.

He was halfway up the stairs when Matt stormed out of the bedroom, fully dressed and apparently ready to leave. He breezed past Dom who wasn’t quick enough to react and make a grab for him. The drummer turned and walked after him.

“Matt.”

Matt didn’t react, instead putting on his jacket and zipping it up. His keys jingled in his pocket when he stuffed his hand inside and Dom was afraid that if he left now there would be no chance to fix this.

“Matt, wait,” he pleaded. The brunet ignored him and was almost out of the door when Dom grabbed his arm. “ _ Please _ , wait.”

Matt sighed loudly, but complied with his request. Dom watched him wordlessly as he slowly got out of his jacket and followed the drummer into the living room. They took their seats, Matt on the couch, with his arms defensively crossed in front of him and Dom in the chair opposite.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” the drummer started and leant forward a bit, “but I’m not sorry about what I said.”

“I know.”

“You’re drifting away from me and I don’t know why. I’m worried about you, okay? I know you’re sick of hearing it, but it doesn’t make it less true.”

Matt sighed. He uncrossed his arms and let them hang uselessly at his sides. “I know. I’m sorry, too. Shouldn’t have snapped. I’m just so…” He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his right hand and tried to gesticulate with his left. He didn’t elaborate.

“If it’s not drugs...” He saw Matt opening his mouth and glaring at him, so Dom quickly added to clarify, “and I trust you when you say it isn’t… What is it? We can’t keep going on like this, Matt.”

He exhaled loudly once again and held his head between in his hands, another audible, shaky breath leaving his lips. Dom sprung out of the chair and sat next to him in an instant, putting one arm around his shoulders and the other on his thigh. If he hadn’t known any better he would have thought Matt was about to cry.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick lately.” Matt’s voice was muffled through his hands. “I keep apologising and it doesn’t get better. I feel like I’m about to break and I- I’m sorry, Dom. I’m really sorry.”

Dom pulled him closer so his head bumped lightly against his shoulder. “When’s the last time you had a proper night’s rest?”

Matt didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. They both knew it must have been weeks.

“I think I need help.”

Matt looked straight ahead, successfully avoiding Dom’s gaze and Dom had no doubt that it had taken him a lot of courage to admit that.

“I’m so tired,” he continued. “And this fucking headache won’t ease up. I can’t concentrate and I keep forgetting things and I… I’m afraid I’m getting a depression. Or worse.”

“What does your doctor say about it?” the drummer asked. Matt’s eyes lowered to the floor guiltily. “You haven’t talked to him.”

“But I will. I  have to. I’ll tell him about this today, I have an appointment. And get help from him, or whoever he says I need to see. Please, Dom.”

Because it was the only thing he could think of right now Dom pushed Matt’s chin up with one hand and kissed him. For emphasis he rubbed his nose against his partner’s, Matt actually letting a small smile slip.

“You didn’t think I’d give up on you, did you, you tit,” he whispered. “I won’t, ever. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Matt’s shoulders went rigid for a moment and Dom wondered if he’d said something wrong, immediately reminded of the night he’d come home from the pub. But then the singer pulled him backwards so they’d lie on the couch, Dom on top him. The drummer moved around so he could lie next to Matt on the narrow sofa, his back to the armrest, and Matt got comfortable with his head finding its way onto Dom’s shoulder.

When they were finally settled Matt said quietly, “I’m really sorry, Dom.”

“Just talk to your doctor, alright?” Dom asked, to which Matt nodded in acquiescence. “Good.”

It was like that with them, first fighting and then forgetting it all again, and it calmed Dom immensely to know that some things didn’t change. It didn’t exactly raise a solution for the problem at hand, but at least he’d gotten Matt to talk about the elephant in the room and admit he couldn’t do it alone. Dom’s hope solely rested on the shoulders of that doctor now.

He heard Matt whisper his name and looked down at the mop of dark hair. “What is it?”

“Can we stay like this for a bit?”

Dom was more than happy with that and rolled onto his side, his arms now engulfing Matt completely. The brunet closed his eyes in reply, exhaling slowly. 

“Of course. As long as you want.”

  
  



	7. 007

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy International Fanworks Day!

_London, United Kingdom_

_Wednesday, 4th November 2015_

 

A couple of days later and Matt and Dom were spending the evening on the couch together for the first time since they’d left for South America. As promised Matt had talked to his doctor, who’d then done a couple of tests with him to determine what was going on. According to him, the singer was suffering from an Acute Stress Disorder, prompted by a traumatic event in the past. Both Matt and Dom agreed that it must have been the events in Turkey that had triggered it and were the root of the problem, although it had been a while ago. It certainly explained the nightmares about Sadik, something which Matt didn’t feel comfortable sharing with Dom yet.

 

He had been advised to take a break and relax at home with immediate effect until the symptoms lessened. It was particularly bothersome because he couldn’t be exposed to strobe lighting and had to give a miss to rehearsals which had just begun. The _Drones World Tour_ which would start in Mexico was just around the corner. After being unable to partake in any way yesterday and the miserable face he’d sported all morning Dom had taken pity on him and decided last minute to skip the evening session to keep him company. Having an evening to themselves after all the shit of the past days, they both wanted to make the best of it and reconcile by making it one of their rare film nights.

 

Matt wasn’t big on films unless they involved deep meaning and complexity, so Dom always had to beg him to watch something _normal_ with him. The singer was easily convinced this time, which was probably a way of apologising for his behaviour in the past week.

 

That had also changed, Dom noticed positively. Of course, Matt was still restless and easily aggravated, but he tried really hard to keep it at bay. Dom on the other hand tried to read the signs and leave him be if necessary. It was only a short-term solution, but for now it worked. It probably helped because since Matt had been honest with his doctor the frontman seemed to be a bit more relaxed as well. It was probably also beneficial that he had had most of the last days to himself.

 

“Oi, wanker!”

 

Matt nudged him with his foot that was conveniently placed in his lap. Dom looked down and realised he must have stopped massaging at some point. The singer wriggled his toes and waited for Dom to get the hint, but he just grinned and pushed the foot away, which gained him a whine and a kick against his thigh.

 

He ignored him and instead leant forward to reach for the coffee table, picking up several DVD cases and throwing them at Matt.  “Stop being a dick and choose the film.”

 

“Why do I have to do it? I already agreed to watch whatever you want.”

 

“Bullshit. That’s what you said at first and then bitched at everything I chose. Because you’re picky and won’t stop complaining until we watch something you’ve picked anyway.”

 

“Fair enough,” he agreed, collecting all cases and stacking them back on the table.

“You know which one I’ll choose.”

 

“ _Interstellar_? Again?” Dom sighed.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Matt, you won’t figure out the whole story, no matter how often you watch it.”

 

“Dom,” he said in a melodramatic voice. “Are you not interested to find out how Cooper managed to enter the Tesseract?”

 

Dom stared blankly. “Not really.”

 

“But Dom, think about it. The Tesseract works _exactly_ like a wormhole. It represents five dimensions in a three dimensional space. You can reach every point in the past with it, Dom!” He gesticulated wildly with his arms. “Whoever built the Tesseract must have been able to walk outside the four dimensions. We do not know if they’re human or an alien tribe and they-“

 

“I get it, I get it. We’ll watch the damn film.”

 

Matt smirked victoriously and rolled from the sofa to insert the disk into their DVD player. When the main menu popped up and Dom pressed play, Matt slid back into his place next to the drummer, his back pressing against a sweater clad shoulder. Dom got the hint and wrapped the arm around him, Matt in return snuggling closer. Dom smiled warmly, this felt so much better than the uncomfortable distance they’d shared for days.

 

They were halfway through the film when Matt’s ringtone jingled. They both looked at the phone lying on top of the fireplace.

 

“Who the fuck is that now?”

 

“Bit late for management to call,” Dom commented and paused the film.

 

“Maybe it’s from the venue. Drones crashing again.” He pushed himself off Dom’s shoulder and stretched before walking over to reach the offending piece of technology. He checked the screen and groaned. “Withheld. Management it is.”

 

Dom leant back casually and watched Matt walking back with the phone in hand. It always amused him how grumpy Matt could be when it came to talking to their management overseas, especially the later it got in the day. Thus, they usually only called in the morning to avoid awkward conversation. That they called at this time could only mean there was important stuff to deal with.

 

“Don’t you wanna pick it up?” he asked with a small smile when Matt flopped back onto the sofa, the ringing phone still in hand.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Hello?”

 

His back went rigid and his face expressionless. Dom couldn’t hear what was being said on the phone, but Matt made no attempt to reply either way. Instead, he just sat there without moving a single muscle and listened to the call. Dom furrowed his brows and wiggled closer.

 

He gingerly took the phone out of Matt’s lax fingers and pressed it to his own ear. However, instead of voices at the other end of the line there was only music. When it was over the call disconnected. He stared at the display until it turned dark.

 

“Well, that was weird.”

 

There was no reply from the singer and Dom looked up to see him staring ahead with the same blank expression.

 

“Matt?” he asked uncertainly when he saw his eyes flickering rapidly.

 

He blinked and the flickering was gone. He pushed Dom to the side and got up wordlessly, apparently heading to their bedroom. Dom frowned and followed him up the stairs.

 

“Matt, what’s up? What was that call about?”

 

The singer didn’t reply. He rummaged through his wardrobe and pushed clothes aside, seemingly trying to find something. Dom watched him with apprehension when he moved to the drawer and repeated the action there. When his search was unsuccessful once again he moved to the bed, throwing pillows and blankets aside, then checking under the mattress.

 

At last he pulled out a small box and Dom squeaked when Matt retrieved a gun from it. Not only had he not known a weapon was in their house – and in their bedroom at that – he also couldn’t fathom why it would be needed now.

 

“What’s going on? What are you doing?” he asked again, much with the same result. Red lights had already been flashing in his mind, but it was when a magazine was pushed into the gun that he reached out to hold onto the other man’s arm. “Matt, you’re scaring me.”

 

The singer looked up to him with the same blank expression he’d held the last couple of minutes. His blue eyes were clouded, making them look icier than they actually were, and the pupils were constricted, reminding Dom of a snake or something equally dangerous.  

 

His hand was grabbed forcefully and Matt’s expression turned malicious. Dom couldn’t remember Matt ever looking like that at anyone, least of all him. If he hadn’t known any better he would have sworn Matt didn’t recognise him anymore.

 

When the singer growled with a deep, menacing voice, “Out of the way, do not interfere with the mission,” he knew that it had to be the truth.

 

He was hurled away with force, his shoulder hitting the edge of the wardrobe painfully. He winced and was momentarily distracted while Matt was walking downstairs and out of the house. When he pulled himself together and sprinted down the stairs in panic it was already too late and the singer was gone.

 

Dom stood in the middle of the hall, unable to process what the fuck had just happened. He raked a shaky hand through his hair and tried to make sense of the situation, but he couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation. Matt was out there with a gun and completely out of it by the looks of it. The situation was _bad_.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to find the other man, make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. But how? He had no idea where to start looking and by the time he found him it could be too late. Calling the police wasn’t an option either.

 

The thought hit him then and he hurried back into the living room. Matt never went anywhere without his phone and yet, there it was, still on the table where Dom had put it. He grabbed it, unlocking the screen with numb fingers, and scrolled through the contact list in search of a certain ID that Matt had told him about a couple of months ago, just in case. This was as good a time as any, in his opinion, and he hit call before he could even make up his mind.

 

_“What is it, MB-7?”_

 

“Something’s happened. Please, you have to help me.”

 

There was a small pause before M asked, _“Identify yourself.”_

 

“It’s Dom… Dominic Howard. I need your help, something’s happened with Matt.”

 

***

 

The sleek limousine pulled up in front of a white washed building in the middle of Westminster. To Dom, it looked like any other house in that area, no fancy security or anything else that would give away that the head of the British Secret Service lived there. Under different circumstances he’d have been amazed.

 

He climbed out of the car and a tall man in a black suit waited for him at the door, nodding towards him in way of greeting. His hand itched to be extended for a handshake in an attempt for normalcy, but he knew better. He simply nodded in return and let himself be guided inside.

 

Escorted through the long entrance hall and up the stairs, Dom noted how very normal it all looked. The house wasn’t ordinarily furnished, but not exactly posh either. It had a classic atmosphere while feeling surprisingly homey and warm, attributes he wouldn’t have connected with M at all, at least not after Matt’s stories. Then again, exaggeration had always been one of Matt’s strongest traits.

 

Ahead of them was a door with a single guard outside and Dom concluded that they’d reached their destination. Confirming his assumption, his guide stopped in front of the door and joined his partner, motioning for Dom to step inside before he crossed his arms in front of his body.

 

He entered the room as instructed and immediately spotted M sitting in a love chair by the window opposite his position. She was holding several sheets of paper and apparently reading over them; more papers were spread out on the coffee table in front of her. She didn’t look up and for a moment he was unsure if she’d even heard him entering. He coughed into his hand awkwardly to make her aware of his presence, but she didn’t as much as blink.

 

He was just about to speak up when she finally addressed him, “Mr. Howard, do not stand around like this. Come here and take a seat.”

 

He obliged and crossed the room with large steps, his body almost falling into the soft cushion of the chair. M was still focused on her papers and he didn’t know how to proceed. He’d only met her once, back when they’d returned from Turkey, but he couldn’t help but feel intimidated in her presence. He was dying to tell her about the happenings in hope of getting answers and possible aid, but at the same time he was overcome with a feeling of respect and submission. He looked down at his hands which were busy fidgeting in his lap.

 

Finally, she put the papers down and eyed him over the rim of her reading glasses. He knew he looked unnaturally pale, his hair wasn’t combed either and his clothes were in a state of complete mess. Still, he couldn’t stand the brief look of pity she gave him before her mask slipped back.

 

M got up from her seat and walked over to the windows, her hands clasped behind her back.

 

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

 

So he proceeded to do just that, although, in his opinion, it wasn’t much. He’d come to her for help, but now that he narrated the circumstances which had led him there, he felt as if she wouldn’t believe him if he couldn’t give any more details. All of this sounded absurd, he had to admit.

 

“Please.” He raked a hand through his black hair and drew a shaky breath. “I know this sounds mental, but you have to believe me.”

 

She hummed and turned around, her eyes fixating on Dom’s face. “Did he say anything to you? Anything at all?”

 

“No. No, he didn’t say anything.” He thought it over and tried to remember exactly if there had been anything. Then he remembered the singer’s words when he’d looked into the ice cold blue eyes. “Wait. He said something like, _out of the way, do not interfere with the mission_. I don’t understand, what does it mean?”

 

“I do not know.”

 

His heart sank. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected that answer, but he still had the foolish hope that M would know exactly what was going on and how to proceed.

 

She walked to her desk and pressed a button, a small light indicating she’d established a call.

 

“Q,” she said loud enough for the speaker to pick up her voice. “I need you to run a scan on MB-7’s phone. Retrace all calls that have been placed in the last hour.”

 

“ _Understood_.”

 

She addressed Dom, “Do you have any idea where he could have gone?”

 

“None. He just…,” he begged. “We need to find him. I’m worried he’s gonna hurt himself.”

 

“Also check CCTV recordings,” M added to Q’s to-do list. “If he’s passed a security camera we will know his location.”

 

She ended the call after that and pressed another button. Only seconds later one of her security guards entered the room and awaited her orders.

 

However, none came as they were interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, followed by shouting. They turned to the door in alarm.

The guard outside fell into the room unmoving, a big gash on his temple and his face full of blood. By the looks of it he was out cold.

 

A shoe soon came into Dom’s view and he looked up to see who’d entered. His body froze in shock - it was Matt, still wearing the white t-shirt and black pants he’d left in. His right hand dangled at his side, the gun in his tight grip, and he stared at M with a vacant expression. Dom couldn’t even comprehend the whole situation when Matt’s arm rose and the sound of a gunshot echoed through the room.

 

He instinctively dove to the floor and put his arms over his head. From the corner of his eye he could see that the remaining bodyguard had pushed M to the floor behind her desk too before he attacked their aggressor. The agent went for Matt’s gun arm, but the singer retaliated by grabbing the guard’s own arm and propelling his body to the side so he could push him to the floor. The suit rolled onto his back and kicked the back of Matt’s knees. Since he still held his arm he could pull him down successfully. However, Matt knew all of the defense techniques by heart and answered with an elbow to the ribs on his landing, so the security let go of him. They both rolled away from each other and M’s bodyguard grabbed for his gun, but it was too late. Another shot was fired and the tall man crumpled to the floor, the shirt covering his chest soaking in red.

 

Matt turned back to M.

 

Dom stared at the scene, mesmerised and unable to believe his own eyes. His boyfriend had just shot someone right in front of him. And in cold blood, too.

 

“Matthew, put that gun down.”

 

M had risen from the floor to stand at her desk. Her eyes were fixed on her subordinate, defying and calculating. Matt didn’t seem to be intimidated, however.

 

“No,” he simply said and raised the gun to aim at her.

 

“Matt!” Dom scrambled up to his knees, holding onto the armrest of one of the love chairs to have leverage. “What are you doing?!”

 

The singer turned to him for a second, his cold eyes boring into Dom’s. His expression was blank and unresponsive, exactly the same it had been back at their home, and Dom shuddered visibly. Matt’s attention returned to M and his finger tightened around the trigger.

 

There was no time to think. It was pure instinct that made Dom crawl out from behind the sofa, run over to Matt and tackle him from behind, his arms slinging around his waist and pulling him down. The shot missed its intended target and instead buried itself in the wall next to M’s head.

 

They toppled to the floor together. Dom’s right hand closed aroundthe gun and he pulled with all his might, but Matt lashed out at him, the barrel of the gun barely missing his head. Dom mimicked the bodyguard’s earlier attempt at grabbing the smaller man’s wrist to force Matt to let go of the weapon or at least impair his movement, and it was a combination of sheer luck and the awkward position they were in that forced Matt to let go of it. Dom threw it to the side, out of their reach, but the success was short-lived. Matt used his arm to throw him over his shoulder and Dom landed on his back at the singer’s feet.  

 

Matt then sat on top of him, his knees on both sides of Dom’s hips. All of his knowledge about disarming techniques exploited, Dom could do nothing when a bony underarm pressed against his throat. He pushed against Matt’s chest in a feeble attempt to free himself, but the singer only grunted in response and put more pressure on his larynx.

Dom gasped at the deadly glare Matt was giving him. The black iris of his eyes was almost entirely swallowed by dull grey-blue, not at all resembling the vibrant colour he was used to seeing.

 

The drummer flailed helplessly, his fingers clawing at Matt’s shirt. One of his hands let go to instead push at the singer’s shoulder, but he didn’t have any strength left.

 

“Matt.” He winced painfully as the pressure intensified. He wondered what would happen first; whether he would die of choking or a broken windpipe. This couldn’t be happening. Wasn’t he supposed to wake up from a nightmare like this? He was going to die, and at Matt’s hand. “Stop! Please stop, Matt. _Please!_ ”

 

Suddenly something shattered and he could breathe again. Matt swayed and fell to the side, and Dom could see M standing above them, holding something that must have been the remains of a lamp or something similar. He raised himself onto trembling elbows with effort, his body getting wrecked by heavy coughs and spluttering when air finally entered his lungs again. Matt lay next to him, motionless. His hand instinctively touched the skin the singer’s arm had pressed against just moments ago. He could feel bile rising up his throat.

 

There was no reaction for a few moments, until M knelt down next to them and carefully raised two fingers to Matt’s carotid to check his vitals. At the contact his eyes snapped open and he pushed against her with his shoulder, effectively tackling her to the floor.

 

His hands shot out and patted the floor blindly until he managed to curl his fingers around the gun. Dom’s hand was on his wrist in an instant, just when Matt raised his arm, and the brunet lashed out, whirling around and hitting Dom’s face before he dropped back onto his back due to the force of his movements. Their eyes met and Matt froze.

 

“Matthew.”

 

He looked to M and a visible shudder ran down his body before his gaze landed back on Dom. He looked terrified.

 

“Matt?” Dom tried carefully, his voice shaking. He didn’t dare to get any closer. “Matt, it’s me.”

 

“Dom.”

 

Matt’s eyes widened and he scrambled backwards, away from the two other figures, before he managed to crawl up to his knees. Dom wasn’t quick enough when Matt managed to stumble and turn tail, jumping through the window to take flight.

 

He was gone again.


	8. 008

Noise. There was so much noise.

 

Matt stumbled along the dark path, trying not to trip over his own feet. His body felt weak, his legs wobbling more and more with every step he took. He came across a lamp post and leant heavily against it, trying to make sense of where he was.

 

His vision was blurry and the lack of sunlight made it even harder to make out something, but he recognised the shape of what he assumed were trees and bushes, a few random benches standing alongside a grey plastered pavement. Was this a park? A park where, though? He couldn’t think, couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten there, wherever that was. He was supposed to be somewhere else, though, wasn’t he? He was supposed to do something, but he couldn’t recall what. He needed to keep going.

 

Matt let go of the lamp post and proceeded to follow the path. It was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the occasional car passing by in the distance. He felt so lost with no sense of direction and in addition to that the pain in his spine intensified with every step, so it became harder and harder to will his body to move. The voices in his head were shouting at him, all overlapping and making it hard to hear who was even talking to him.

 

“Go away. Go away…,” Matt mumbled to himself, although he knew it was pointless. The voices wouldn’t stop. If anything, they only became louder.

 

He suddenly tripped and stumbled to the ground, moaning pitifully when his body hit the solid ground underneath him. His hands shot out to claw at his head and he howled like a wounded animal. His body instinctively rolled onto his side and curled into a ball.

 

His limbs burned as if they were on fire. His head felt as if someone was cutting at it with a butcher’s knife. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will it all away.  

 

_This is your mission, soldier._

_Matthew, put that gun down._

_Be a good little whore._

_Please stop, Matt._ Please _._

 

Grey eyes flashed inside his mind and it all came to a sudden halt. More flashes followed. Them sitting on the sofa together. Him saluting to a dark figure. M standing behind her desk. Dom underneath him, struggling and pleading, fighting for his life.

 

Matt uncurled his body and staggered up to his feet. A gust of wind hit his body and for the first time that day he felt himself shivering badly. He understood that he was only wearing a thin t-shirt, a fact he hadn’t realised before.

 

He was cold and alone and suddenly felt miserable and sick. He had to see Dom.

 

His feet carried him on autopilot when he left the park, limping past a bus station and finally stepping onto the street. Tires screeched and then Matt stared unblinkingly into the headlights of a car that had halted only metres away from him.

 

“Are you fucking dumb, mate? Get off the streets!” the driver shouted at him and honked for emphasis, but Matt just turned his head away and continued his sluggish walk to the other side.

 

Soon enough buildings that felt familiar to him came into view and he instinctively picked up speed. When he turned around a corner he almost stumbled again, only barely keeping his body upright, but he kept going. He didn’t even know where exactly he was going, but he knew he’d see Dom there. He needed to see him.

 

When he finally reached the house his head told him was the right one he dropped to his knees and hit his fist against the door. He didn’t know why, but there was an urgency inside of him to see the drummer and he couldn’t live another minute without his sun, his salvation.

 

It only took seconds for the door to open and there he was, wearing the same clothes he now remembered from the last time he’d seen him in this very house. Grey eyes widened in shock when they fell on him and Matt couldn’t hold out a single second longer, his body jumping forward to fall right into the other man’s arms who dropped to his knees under the sudden weight.

 

“Matt! Oh my god, Matt,” Dom exclaimed and wrapped his arms around him.

 

It was ~~like~~ a dam had broken inside Matt and he suddenly felt hot moisture running down his cheeks. He didn’t know why he cried, couldn’t even fathom a reason with his head being so full of noise and voices and things, but he suddenly felt as if an unbelievable weight was crushing him and threatening to break his entire being. He shook to release tension and Dom only tightened his arms in response, his lips seeking out to kiss his hair.

 

“I was so worried,” he whispered and even in his current state Matt could hear his voice breaking. He rubbed at his eyes with his sweater. “Shit, I thought you were gone.”

 

“Help me,” Matt cried into his chest. “Help me, Dom. Please help me.”

 

“Tell me what to do. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

 

But Matt didn’t know, so he could only repeat his request over and over while they stayed on their knees on the floor, the wind from outside bursting through the still open door.

 

***

 

It took at least half an hour until Dom managed to pull Matt up and move them into the living room. Matt swayed at his side with every step they took while he guided him and placed him on the sofa before he had situated himself right next to him to continue comforting him. The confused singer had then clung to him as if his life depended on it, his eyes frantic and his heart beating wildly. It didn’t seem like he would calm down any time in the near future, if anything, his pulse was quickening the longer they just sat there. Dom considered giving him something to calm down, maybe help with whatever stress he was going through. He was sure they still had some calmatives in the cabinet in the bathroom. But he didn’t know the effect they would have as he didn’t know the reason.

 

He tried to remember if there had been any signs pointing towards Matt’s meltdown. Sure, the past weeks seemed like a good indicator, but they had all assumed it was the stress. His doctor had attested to that, too. It had grated on their nerves and had been nothing short of a rollercoaster of emotions for everyone involved, but nothing could have prepared Dom for something of this magnitude. And yesterday… If he hadn’t known better he could have sworn it wasn’t Matt pushing him away and storming out of the door. It definitely wasn’t the man he’d known for two decades and loved for nearly as long that had attacked them and almost killed a trusted and respected employer. He thought of Matt sitting on top of him and trying to crush his windpipe, and he felt his throat clog up as the full weight of what had happened descended upon him.

 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said and was already on his feet when Matt’s hand shot out to hold him and pull him back down.

 

“No. No, you can’t go,” Matt whispered while his eyes twitched, his head moving to each side in quick succession. “Someone is here, you can’t go. It’s dangerous.”

 

Shaking fingers closed around his wrist and Dom almost winced at the force. He peeled them off carefully and put more distance between them. “There’s nobody here, we’re alone,” he declared shakily. “I just need to use the loo.”

 

“But Dom-“

 

“I promise I’ll call you if something’s up.” He stood up again, this time without any resistance from the singer. It was hard to look into the frightened blue eyes. “Be right back.”

 

He almost jumped up the stairs in his hurry to get away from Matt. Instead of taking the bathroom, Dom entered their master bedroom and leant against the wardrobe heavily. He took a deep breath and tried to collect his thoughts, all the while not trying to cry at the enormity and seriousness of the situation.

 

He didn’t know what to do. This was way over his capabilities, and this time he couldn’t count on Matt to sort it out. He didn’t even know what had happened to the singer and how to help him. He only knew that he couldn’t turn to the MI6. They’d lock Matt up as soon as they laid hands on him. High treason wasn’t taken lightly, he knew that much, and he couldn’t expect M to believe Matt would never do such a thing consciously. He needed to show them he was still a loyal agent and that he had been forced to do it. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He remembered the weird flicker he’d seen in Matt’s eyes after the call that had preceded his sudden change of behaviour. Whatever that had been, he was sure that it had something to do with it.

 

They couldn’t stay in London, though. It would be like putting a bullseye on their backs, especially if they stayed at their place. But where would they go?

 

In the end, he could only think of one person who could help him out. He walked over to the bed and retrieved his iPhone from the nightstand before he moved to the window to stare outside while he listened to the call signal beeping in his ear. The street was almost dark with only a few lamp posts lighting up small portions of the pavement.

 

After almost a minute of hearing the call signal Dom was about to give up when he finally heard a click on the other end of the line with a groan following. Chris’ voice was tired and annoyed when he spoke up, “ _Do you fucking know what a clock is? It’s half two._ ”

 

“Chris, it’s me.”

 

“ _What’s wrong?_ ” Chris asked, more awake now, the sound of Dom’s voice alarming him.

 

“Look, Matt and I need to get away for a bit. Can you help us?”

 

“ _Of course, mate. Of course,_ ” Chris immediately replied. “ _You can stay over here as long as you want._ ”

 

“No. No, we can’t stay with you. It’s too dangerous. We need to go somewhere we’re alone, somewhere isolated.”

 

“ _Dangerous? What do you mean?_ ” The drummer, however, remained silent. “ _Dom, what happened? Are you okay?_ ”

 

He drew a shaky breath before replying, his reflection looking as exhausted as he felt. He sighed. “Something happened to Matt, Chris. I don’t know what, but I need to hide him away for a bit. From whoever did this to him, from the MI6... Please, you know we don't have anyone else who can help us.”

 

There was silence on the other end and Dom feared that Chris would ask more questions. He didn’t really know how to explain what had happened. That Matt had suddenly vanished, only to reappear at the house of the head of the Secret Service with the intent of killing her and was now nothing more than a fugitive? It sounded absolutely mad, even to himself, although it had happened right in front of his own fucking eyes.

 

But then Chris spoke up, his voice calm and steady, exactly the way Dom needed it the most.

 

“ _Don’t go anywhere, I’m coming to you_.”

 

It was good to have someone like Chris as support. Of course all of them were always there for each other, but Chris had a knack for saying exactly what they needed to hear. It probably had to do with him being a father that he instinctively knew what was required of him, but Dom appreciated it nonetheless.

 

He hastily rummaged through their wardrobe to find something suitable to wear for Matt to replace the blood stained t-shirt. His eyes landed on the black hoodie that was adorned with Jack Skellington’s face and he felt a pull inside his chest at the thought of their trip to Disneyland, the stark contrast between the Matt who had laughed like a maniac on Splash Mountain and the man currently sitting in their living room too much to take. He shook his head rapidly to get rid of the thought and snatched the piece of clothing along with a black shirt and white pants and made his way back to Matt.

 

The singer was standing at the window, his hands curled around the edge of the sill in an iron grip and his head whipping around to check the pedestrians that passed.

 

“I’m back,” Dom announced softly as not to startle him, but Matt spun around hastily nevertheless.

 

He looked white as a ghost. The pupils of his eyes looked like small dots in the unusually pale and dull blue. A trail of sweat ran down his temple and Dom couldn’t help but follow its path down to the collarbone. There was blood sticking to the collar of the t-shirt and reminded Dom instantly of what Matt had done just hours ago.

 

“I brought you fresh clothes,” he finally said and sat down on the sofa again, the garments now on his lap and his hand extending to the cushion of the sofa in a silent request. Matt followed it carefully and sat down next to him, but his gaze was still directed towards the windows. Dom laid a hand on his thigh and the singer flinched. Dom rubbed it soothingly. Goosebumps rose on Matt’s bare skin.

 

“You should get dressed, you’re cold.”

 

Dom held the hoodie out to him, but Matt didn’t take it and Dom sighed – a mix of helplessness and frustration – before he took it on himself and curled his hands around the rim of the dirty t-shirt, pulling it over the other man’s head.

 

Robbed of his sight momentarily, Matt struggled like a trapped wildcat and made it even harder for Dom to pull the t-shirt over his head. Once he’d succeeded the singer seemed to relax, if only slightly, and breathed out heavily. Dom frowned down at the pale chest and watched the strong thumping of his heart against his ribcage. If he hadn’t known any better he’d have thought it might leap out sooner or later.

 

Shaking his head, he called Matt’s name to get his attention and then show him the fresh, black t-shirt before he pulled it over his head. Matt fought much less this time, but was just as fidgety, and Dom made sure to be as quick as possible with the task, pulling the hoodie down in one swift motion, too. Propped in something warmer and the bloodstains gone, he looked much more vulnerable to Dom, so he curled a hand around his shoulder and pulled him towards his chest.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Everything is so loud,” Matt replied. “My body hurts and there are so many voices and I don’t know where they’re coming from. There are shadows everywhere, don’t you see?”

 

It pained him to see Matt like this. He’d always been twitchy and paranoid, but this was on a whole new level he couldn’t even begin to grasp. Something was seriously wrong with the singer and he had no idea how to fix it.

 

“I think we should get away from here for a bit,” he said quietly, stroking a bit of hair out of Matt’s eyes. “Somewhere safer. What do you say?”

 

Matt nodded frantically before his attention was once again stolen from Dom when something rustled outside. Shortly afterwards, there was a knock on the door and Matt almost shot from the sofa.

 

“Shh, calm down. Calm down, Matt,” Dom said softly and pulled the other man back while he himself got up carefully. “It’s just Chris. He’s picking us up. I’ll open the door for him.”

 

Matt looked at him with wide eyes and Dom hurried away before he could even start to protest again. At the door, he took a deep breath before he opened it to reveal the bassist standing behind it, clearly still tired but alert. He stepped aside to let Chris enter.

 

Chris followed the invitation and took a step forward, his large hands holding onto Dom’s shoulders to keep him in place and get a better look at him. His eyes automatically landed on the bruise Dom had sustained from the hit with the gun, his eyes searching Dom’s. “What happened, mate?”

 

Dom lowered his gaze to the floor for a moment, his breath stuttering. He wanted to blurt everything out right now, but he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be able to get through the rest of the night. He simply spun around to head back into the living room, Chris following. When they entered, Matt leant against the wall at an awkward angle and Dom could feel Chris hesitating next to him. He raised his eyes to the bassist’s face to study it intently. He looked unsure and worried.

 

“Dom, what’s going on?” he asked quietly. His eyes didn’t leave the bundle of nerves in front of him.

 

“Matt’s… I don’t know. It’s all a bit complicated, really. I’ll explain everything I know later, I promise, but for now, I need you to keep an eye on him.” He motioned towards the singer. “I’m gonna go and pack some things.”

 

Dom returned to the bedroom without another word and knelt down to pull a small bag from underneath the bed. He started to stuff some random clothes from the wardrobe into it without actually looking at what he was taking. Once done, he raced downstairs to collect their wallets.

 

His feet slowed in the hallway when he spotted something peeking from under one of the small cupboards. He crouched down to find Matt’s gun, his brows furrowing in confusion. Matt must have taken it with him in his escape and then dropped it when he’d fallen into Dom’s arms without him noticing it. He’d been too relieved to pay attention to anything but Matt in his arms.

 

It took him only a moment to make up his mind and he made a grab for the weapon. If Matt was right and someone was after him, then they might need protection. He eyed it warily before he pushed it into the bag, deep between the clothes, and then made his way back to his friends.

 

It was going to be a long night.

 

***

 

Chris rubbed at his tired eyes. After having been behind the wheel for a couple of hours – he couldn’t say exactly how long – he could feel his eyes slowly closing once in awhile. He didn’t really fancy falling asleep while driving, so they’d have to stop better sooner than later to get some proper sleep and continue to God knows where in the morning. The road signs indicated they had almost reached Leeds and Chris snorted. This whole situation still seemed utterly surreal.

 

He looked into the rearview mirror and watched his two bandmates. Matt seemed to have finally fallen asleep, his face looking much more relaxed than Chris had seen it all night. Dom was sitting next to him, his body turned towards the singer and his face lying on the backrest of the seat right next to Matt’s ear. He didn’t speak, just watched the other man.

 

Chris longed to ask what was going on. When the call had come a couple of hours ago, he’d immediately known that something was horribly wrong. Having seen Dom with his own eyes, he’d gotten his worries confirmed. And when he had seen Matt… He couldn’t recall the smaller man ever having looked so lost and frightened. Of course he’d always been a paranoid little shit, but now his constant wriggling and jumping had been more than just a bit disconcerting.

 

After not having seen Matt since they’d returned from Colombia, he wondered if this had been a new addition to the stress he’d been under for weeks. Dom had told them that a doctor had diagnosed the singer with a heavy stress syndrome and that he was on bed rest until the symptoms had lightened, but somehow Chris doubted that this had anything to do with that.

 

Part of him wondered if his bandmate had finally snapped, the pressure of the band and his work for the MI6 too strong to handle. He remembered their conversation back in Rio after reading about the death of an MI6 officer, about stress in the field and how he’d worried about Matt for one slight minute before he had discarded the thought, convinced that he had enough support to anchor him. But maybe it hadn’t been enough, after all.

 

A car passed them and its headlights illuminated the interior, blinding the bassist slightly. His eyes were exhausted and sensitive, and he longed to just close them and sleep it all off in the comfort of his own bed in Surrey.

 

“Dom,” he called out softly. In the mirror, he could see the drummer turning his head to the side and their eyes locked briefly before the bassist focused on the road ahead. “We should rest somewhere, I’m about to fall asleep.”

 

“I’m sorry I woke you up. I didn’t know who else to call.” He wriggled around with effort, careful not to wake Matt and sit up properly. “We can switch on the side of the road somewhere.”

 

Chris shook his head slightly. “No, that’s not what I meant. You look like you could use some sleep yourself.”

 

“I’m fine. I just need a coffee and we can keep moving.”

 

“Dom. You’re useless if you pass out from exhaustion and Leeds is just ahead, we can get a room for the night and check out early. Let’s rest for a couple of hours.”

 

Dom didn’t protest and Chris chanced another glance into the mirror. The dark haired drummer had his face downcast, frowning at his hands. Taking it as agreement, Chris steered the car towards the closest exit, heading for Whitkirk.

 

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked softly.

 

“I will. Just not… Just not now, yeah? Please, just trust me.”

 

“Of course I trust you, Dom. You know I do.”

 

The drummer nodded in acknowledgment and turned back to the singer, ending their conversation for the remainder of the drive.

 

They stopped at a random motel that they found on the way, located on the outskirts of the city and away from any busy streets.

 

Dom waited in the car with the still asleep Matt while Chris had taken it upon him to ask for a free room, making sure they had a roof above their heads for the rest of the night. He could see him constantly glancing between the singer and the outside world, nervously awaiting Chris’ return.

 

When he returned and opened the door on his side, he bent down to be able to pop his head in carefully.

 

“They got a small apartment left for us,” he explained. “Nothing fancy, but it should do for the night.”

 

Dom nodded wordlessly and heaved himself out of the vehicle with seemingly more effort than the action actually required. The night was definitely taking its toll on him. He looked back into the car and seemed to hesitate on what to do next.

 

But Chris had no doubts on what to do. He rounded the car and quietly opened the door on Matt’s side, unlocking the seat belt beforebending down. He pulled Matt out carefully and adjusted the smaller man’s weight – one arm around his shoulders, the other one around the back of his knees – to be able to carry him inside. Matt didn’t give any indication that he was about to wake up, but a small whimper left his lips nonetheless and Chris bowed his head a bit.

 

“It’s okay, mate. I’ve got you,” he whispered into the brown hair.

 

Matt only leant his head against the bassist’s chest when he started walking.


	9. 009

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Err... We're incredibly sorry for taking so long! Real life and Muse got in the way, but here we are now. Pretty tough chapter to follow, keep the warnings in mind, just in case. Other than that, enjoy :)

The flat was indeed rather small, with just one bedroom and a tiny living room. As expected, it wasn’t cleaned properly, but it would suffice for the night. They’d slept at much worse places throughout their band’s career.

Chris headed straight for the bedroom to get Matt to bed while Dom dropped the bag with their clothes next to the door before joining them. When he entered he could see Matt awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with Chris crouching next to him. He was rubbing the back of his head, then his neck and finally his shoulder.

“Neck bothering you?” Dom asked and sat down next to him. Matt nodded. “What about the headache?”

Matt pressed two of his fingers on a spot on the centre of his head, slowly moving them to his forehead.

“’s better, yeah. But…” He trailed off, unable to explain himself.

“Best to get some rest then,” Chris said, nodding, before getting on his feet and squeezing the singer’s shoulder. “It was a long day, yeah?”

He left his two bandmates alone and Dom took it on himself to undress the singer and get him ready for bed. To Dom’s relief, Matt fell asleep again almost immediately as soon as his head hit the pillow. He wouldn’t have known what to do otherwise.

He found Chris sitting on the small sofa in the livingroom, his arms crossed and his legs stretched out, deep in thought. Two mugs sat on the coffee table in front of him. He only looked up when Dom sat down next to him with a sigh.

“Put the kettle on” he said and held one of the mugs out to the drummer. “Figured we could  use it.”

Dom accepted it thankfully and pressed the mug to his lips, the warm ceramic and hot tea providing a small comfort.

“Tell me what happened.” It wasn’t a demand but a request.

One of Dom’s thumbs started to scrape at a small crack on the rim and he sighed heavily. “Look, this is gonna sound really crazy, but I swear it’s true.”

He told Chris exactly what had happened, about their plan of watching a film getting interrupted by a mysterious phone call and Matt’s sudden change in behavior, and his luckily failed attempt to assassinate M.

“Wait, _what_?” Chris exclaimed sharply, his eyes wide with shock and surprise.

“I know, I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t been there myself.”

“But…” The bassist’s head turned towards the bedroom door and Dom could easily guess what he was thinking.

“I think he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I don’t know.”

“It would be safer to get him to the MI6, to be honest,” Chris mulled quietly.

“No!” The drummer grabbed his arm out of reflex, maybe a bit too tightly. The thought alone made his skin crawl. “No, we can’t. They’ll lock him up, Chris. We have to prove he’s not a killer before we can call anyone.”

“But how do you think we should do that?” Chris countered, taking Dom’s mug and putting it back on the table alongside his own. “How do you want to investigate anything with so little information to go on? They know better than anyone else what to do.”

He didn’t have an answer to that. Truth was, he had no idea where to even start. He felt powerless and completely out of his depth. Chris was right, the only people who could provide help were precisely the ones they were trying to elude. He didn’t know how to get medical assistance of any sort without supplying more information than he should and could.

“What about that doctor Matt’s seeing?”

Shaking his head, Dom replied, “It’s all confidential and Matt has never divulged a sliver of information to me.”

Chris hummed and they fell back into silence. If they could find that doctor without alerting the authorities, there might be a chance to get a step ahead, but at this point Dom didn’t know how. A Google search was in order, that was for sure, but he didn’t really know what to look for. Whatever the problem was, it seemed to be neurological and had started at some point in Brazil. Stress didn’t cause anyone to pick up a gun and march down to their employer’s house while unable to recognise anyone surrounding them,.

He had reviewed the scene a million times in his head, the images playing so far removed of the reality he knew. Especially now with Matt sleeping in the room next to them, subdued and harmless, it made even less sense. There was no doubt in his mind that Matt had failed to recognise him. The strange phone call, the way he pushed him at home… how he almost killed him. It seemed to be the moment that Matt had acknowledged who he was that had saved them. As if a switch had been turned on and then off.

And then there was also the fact that Matt had been downright scared and paranoid all night. The sheer terror of someone following him from wherever he had been between the time he’d fled M’s place and his arrival at their home had kept him going until he had finally passed out from exhaustion. Combining all things that had happened in the past hours, it made absolutely no sense to Dom.

“We need to be very careful, Dom,” Chris finally broke the silence which had settled. “If he’s not himself and failed to recognise you earlier, it could happen again. I don’t want to think about what he could do if he feels threatened or cornered. He’d never forgive himself.”

“I know, but he wouldn’t.” There was no point telling Chris that he’d actually tried already. He was better off not knowing everything.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” the bassist started and got up, stretching his limbs and yawning loudly, “but I could really do with a kip now. Maybe everything looks better in the morning.”

Somehow, Dom doubted it, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

 

***

 

_Leeds, United Kingdom_

_Thursday, 5th November 2015_

 

Morning came quickly, and Dom hadn’t gotten much sleep in the scarce hours of rest they had taken. Chris had left about half an hour ago, murmuring about getting breakfast before they continued their journey to the North. There were no sounds coming from the bedroom and Dom hoped that at least the singer had had a peaceful night.

He tapped another search into the Google tab he had opened on his phone; a mix of keywords concerning headaches, paranoia and confusion, but the results only showed websites for clinics that dealt with migraines and traumas. None of them were even remotely close to Leeds. Growling in frustration, he locked the screen and threw it to the side, the device landing on a throwaway cushion next to his feet.

Somehow he doubted that finding the doctor would be beneficial to their cause anyway. He was most likely a direct employee of the MI6 and alerting him to Matt’s whereabouts would be as dangerous as calling M directly.

The sound of a keycard being swiped announced Chris’ return. The bassist soon came into view, two cups of coffee and a pack of bakery goodness in his hands. He sat down next to Dom with a nod and pushed the bag to him, Dom pulling out a small croissant to munch on.

“Any progress?” Chris asked him before biting into a croissant of his own.

Dom shook his head. “Can’t find anything without a name and we can’t really ask around either.”

“So what now?”

The drummer frowned down at his phone, tapping at it with one hand while he held the cup of coffee in the other. “I guess our best bet is to keep going and find someone who we can trust to take a closer look at Matt.”

He opened a map on his phone and checked the closest towns. Chris watched him from the side, thinking of a way to broach the topic once again. He didn’t know what Dom was hoping to achieve with fleeing from city to city, it was getting them nowhere. On the other hand, he could understand the drummer’s need to protect Matt. The small man was a good guy, always had been, and the thought of him being locked up for something he did because he was forced to do or because he was ill sliced through him like a knife. He wanted to help the singer badly, but realistically he also knew that their best bet lied in the hands of those Dom considered the enemy. Regardless, the whole ordeal was a nightmare and he didn't even want to think about how they would deal with incoming calls concerning rehearsals and questions about where all three band members were.

“We could probably head to Edinburgh. How long is the journey? 4 hours?”

“And then what?” Chris asked softly.

“I don’t know. Take a plane somewhere? No, wait. We’d need passports. They’d immediately know we’re there.”

“Dom, we can’t run away forever.”

He sighed, frustrated. “I know. But I won’t leave Matt alone.” More tapping on his phone before Dom added, “You should go home, I’m sure Kelly is already worrying herself sick.”

“No. You two are fucking obnoxious but also my best friends. I’m not gonna leave you alone. Never again. We’re in this together.”

A wave of emotion gripped him at the words, and Dom opted to keep his mouth shut. He knew he could always count on Chris, but hearing him speak about it so openly drove home just how much they could rely on their friend.

There was rustling coming from the bedroom and both men looked up in unison to find Matt standing in the doorway. He tiptoed towards them with unsure steps before he stopped dead in his tracks. He was still only dressed in boxers and the t-shirt Dom had left him in, his hair tousled as if he’d just woken up. But his features indicated he was wide awake, his body rigid and charged up. Chris looked at Dom confusedly.

“Matt?”

The man in question only stared at them with wide, vacant eyes before he snorted.

***

 

Rising from a deep slumber, Matt’s eyes opened slowly to take in his surroundings. He didn’t know what had brought him from sleep and sighed. He closed his eyes again and breathed out deeply to relax, but a small thumping noise reached his ears and he twitched. The sound seemed to increase in volume and pierced his brain, automatically increasing his heart rate. He was wide awake in an instant; someone was there with him.

He rolled onto his back and felt a shudder going through his body. He couldn’t remember getting to bed. Pulling himself into a half sitting position he checked his surroundings. An unknown bed and furniture he’d never seen in his life. This was not their house, or any that he could recognise. The hotels he usually stayed at were far more luxurious. He didn’t know where he was.

Matt slid off the bed in one smooth motion. His instincts sharpened unnaturally quickly at the threat of danger. His eyes adjusted to the dark rapidly and he tiptoed to the window that was hidden behind thick curtains, a type G power socket on the wall confirming his gut instinct that he was still in England. Pushing the curtains aside carefully, he tried to identify his location.

The city seemed foreign to him. The sun was still mostly hidden behind the clouds, but even with only the scarce light he could say he was not in London. There were almost no cars and he was unable to read the plates from those that passed. He was in a flat on second, maybe third floor.

Something – or someone – made a sound outside the room and his body tensed up with adrenaline, in anticipation. Matt strained his ears to make out what was going on, but all he could hear was a dull humming that sent his skin into goosebumps.

The floor felt cool under his feet as he sneaked to the door with his back to the wall, his mind already conjuring a million scenarios. His hand closed around the handle and he pulled it open just a fraction. It was definitely a rented one bedroom flat; there was a sheet with the rates hanging on the main door.

A light flickered at the far end of the room, which was out of sight, followed by another murmur of a voice he couldn’t immediately place. There was someone else there.

He leant against the wall again and closed his eyes, trying to think of a plan and ignore the growing headache. He didn’t know where he was nor why and whether it was possible to flee. He had no weapon to defend himself if needed.

In the end, the bedroom was unlocked and they could have easily disposed of him while he slept so he simply opened the door to slip outside, his back straight and his eyes scanning the area with every step he took. Once he got close to the source of light, he hesitated.

Richard Sadik sat on the cheap sofa, one leg crossed at the ankle over the other knee, one arm bent at the elbow on top of the backrest to support his head. The trademark smirk was firmly in place, too.

Matt’s initial reaction was to stare at him in shock before he snorted in amusement. Of course. “ _You_. You’re not real.”

Sadik looked up at the sound of his voice. “Ah, hello, my dear Matthew. If by not real, you mean too good to be real, then I thank you for the lovely compliment.”

“I mean you only exist in my head.” Matt shook his head. "I figured it all out, you only exist in my dreams.”

“Do I really, though? Or is there more behind it? Think about it, _sevgilim_.”

“Stop playing games with me!” he shouted. “You only exist in _here_.” He tapped his right temple with a single finger. “What do I have to do to get you out of my head?”

Sadik chuckled, amused. “You can’t get me out of your head? See, Matthew, I told you you’d miss me.”

“I don’t miss you! You’re dead! I saw you die and you can’t come back from that.”

“Maybe I can’t. Maybe I did. What does your head tell you, Matthew?”

“It says, _Shut the fuck up!_ ”

“Oh, I will. Sooner or later.” He swirled a finger through the air. “But let’s talk about Dominic first, shall we? I wonder where he is.”

“Dom?” Matt asked, something dropping in the pit of his stomach. “What did you do to him? Where is he?”

“He might be around, he might be far away. I thought you’d figured it all out?”

His eyes narrowed. “No. He’s not. This is not real. You’re not real.”

Sadik rose from the sofa and smoothed down his suit, walking slowly towards Matt, who took a step backwards himself.

“Stay back.”

“There’s hot blood running in my veins, Matthew. Don’t you see?”

“Step back!” Matt took another step backwards. Dream or not, he only wanted distance between the two of them, their last encounter still etched deep into his mind. “Step back, I said!”

“Oh, Matthew, Matthew,” Sadik tutted and flourished a hand. “What’s reality and what isn’t… It’s all a matter of perception. You say I’m not real because I’m only in your head, but what about the things that are real and _also_ hidden only in your head?” He tapped one, long finger against the side of his head for emphasis, mimicking Matt’s earlier action.

The singer shook his head and felt a shiver going through his whole body. “You’re mental,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

“So by exclusion, that makes you the sane one?”

Sadik laughed when Matt shook his head again. Another large step backwards and Matt stumbled over something on the floor, falling onto his bum sharply. The contents of the bag jumbled out to the floor and Matt caught sight of something silvery. His hand shot out before he could even process what it was that he was seeing and pulled out a weapon – his gun, he recognised now. Then he raised it towards the other man’s chest.

A cruel smirk slid into place on the former agent’s face. “Yes, Matthew. Kill me,” he exclaimed and extended his arms. “By all means, go ahead and kill me!”

Matt’s body felt weak, the headache so strong he couldn’t even see properly. It was hard keeping his hand up, too. He had trouble keeping the barrel in position, he was shaking so much. Why was he shaking so much?

“Come on, Matthew. Pull the trigger. Shoot me. Just like you wanted to do in Turkey. Finish this.”

His finger around the trigger tightened, but the noise at the back of his head that quickly turned into pain was back and interrupted all of his thought processes and movements. He tilted his head to the side slightly to try and alleviate the pain, but if any, it only worsened it. There were voices now, shouting and overlapping and he cringed, his eyes squeezing shut. Just then he remembered how dangerous it was to give Sadik even a split second of room and his eyes flew open, ready to strike…

… but it wasn’t Sadik he was pointing the gun at. It was Dom.

There was only one voice in his head now and it was loud and clear.

“Matt!”

He froze and swallowed thickly, his mouth going dry. Dom was standing in the exact same spot Richard Sadik had taunted him just moments ago, his arms raised and his face as white as a sheet. Chris was behind him, just as pale and his posture stiff with nerves.

Matt shook his head and blinked rapidly before he glanced down at himself. Bare feet and the same boxers and t-shirt combination he’d worn just a moment ago. The living room, too, appeared exactly like he’d encountered it but full of light.

“Matt, put the gun down. Please.”

He complied with the request and lowered his arm. The knot in his throat only tightened when he watched Dom following the motion with wide, panicky eyes.

“What… What are you doing here, Dom? Where are we?”

If anything, Dom appeared horror-stricken now. “We’re in Leeds. I was on the couch trying to google some things…” He pointed towards the empty sofa, his phone still lit on the table. “Do you not remember?”

“No. No, we were at home. We were watching _Interstellar_.”

Chris and Dom both exchanged looks before Dom faced the singer again. “We’ve been here since last night. You came in and started talking to no one in particular and you weren’t… You weren’t listening to me.”

“I was dreaming. I know it was a dream because he was here.”

“Matt…” Dom’s voice shook as much as Matt’s hands. “Matt, you weren’t dreaming. You told me I wasn’t real. There’s no one else here but us.”

“No,” Matt chuckled. His chest constricted with the slow realisation of what was unfolding. “No, he was here. But I know he isn’t real.”

“Who was here, Matt?” Dom took a cautious step towards him when Matt scrambled to his feet. “You’re… You’re scaring me.”

“I’m not hallucinating… He was here. I know he was, because the last time…” He stopped himself and squeezed his eyes shut.

_“It’s all in your head, Matthew.”_

“No,” he howled at the return of Sadik’s voice. He was terrified to open his eyes. “Please leave me alone. Please.”

“ _Tell me, what’s real and what isn't? How can you say what is your reality?_ ”

Matt felt tears prickling at his eyes and he raised his head to look up at the ceiling. A warm hand closed around his arm and he lashed out, the cold metal of the gun slapping it away. Dom yelped and pulled his hand away.

 _“Only you have the power to make me go away._ ”

“Matt,” Dom started carefully and Matt opened his eyes. Sadik was nowhere to be seen. “Matt, please give me the gun okay?”

Matt looked down at it as if he was only now remembering he was holding it. He looked at Dom and then Chris before his gaze locked back on Dom’s face. His eyes widened and his face contorted into an expression full of agony when he realised what he’d done.

“Fuck. I almost killed you. Fuck. _Fuck!_ ”

“It’s okay. Nothing’s happened,” Dom assured him. “Let’s sit down and talk, yes? Just come on and sit down.”

“Stay back!” Matt shouted, dismissing him with the same hand he gripped the gun. “Stay away from me. Oh God, stay away.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m here to help. Let me-“

“No! No, you can’t help me. Nobody can. How can anybody help when I don’t know what’s wrong? How could I…” He sobbed and shook his head again and again. His body was back to shivering badly. “And this fucking headache doesn’t go away. I can’t… I’m seeing things. I almost _killed_ you, for fuck’s sake! I can’t let anything happen to you Dom. I’m not-”

His voice gave out and he simply moaned in pain. He thought he was going to be sick and bent at the waist, his hands shooting out to squeeze his head between them.

“Matt. Matt, give him the gun, please.“

His head jerked up at the sound of Chris’ voice and he tried to back further away from his bandmates, but he was already flat against the wall without nowhere else to hide. Everything was starting to blur. He couldn’t say if it was Dom or Chris or Sadik in front of him. He couldn’t even tell if someone was talking or if it was only the noise in his head. He couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t get them in danger. There was only one way to keep them safe and end it all.

“Matt! What are you doing? _Stop!_ ”

The barrel of the gun felt cool against his temple, easing some of the pain that pulsed through his brain. It was so tempting to close his eyes again and just let go.

“Stop it!” The drummer shouted, afraid to take a step forward. He didn’t know if this deranged Matt would just pull the trigger. “What are you doing?!”

“I can’t hurt you anymore, Dom. I can’t.”

“You’re hurting me by doing this, you fucking idiot! For the love of God. Do you trust me? Please!”

Matt’s face contorted again at the anguish in Dom’s voice. “I’m… Fuck, I’m sorry, Dom. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. There’s so much noise in my head, so many voices demanding things. I can’t let them control me but they don’t go away…they won’t leave me alone, but I won’t let them. I can’t let them!” he yelled. “Please, let me go… let me go, let me go, LET ME GO!”

He looked so broken and Chris wasn't sure what made him to do it, but he knew that it was now or never when he leapt forward and closed his hand around the gun. Matt struggled weakly against him, but in the end Chris managed to force his arm down.

The gun clattered to the floor with a dull thud and Matt shrunk in on himself, Chris closing his arms around his small frame. The singer pressed himself into his chest with a howl that sounded like a wounded animal and Chris laid a hand on the back of his head to push him closer.

“Shhh, it’s gonna be alright.”

Dom made a grab for the gun and threw it far away from them before he slumped down next to his two best friends, staring at the back of Matt’s head while he cried. He felt completely numb, his body refusing to work from the shock. He knew he should somehow react to what had just happened, but he was unable to feel a thing.

“He’s freezing, Dom.”

The drummer’s eyes moved from Matt to Chris’ face and noted absentmindedly that he looked just as dazed.

“He’s shivering,” the bassist elaborated and rubbed at Matt’s upper arms.

Dom nodded and pulled himself together and up on his feet slowly. He touched Matt’s shoulder and signaled for him to get up, Matt obeying unsteadily. Arms tightly locked around the small body, Dom escorted him away from the bassist still sitting on the floor and towards the bathroom.

Why exactly he felt it appropriate to take a shower, Dom couldn’t tell. Maybe it was the naïve hope that the water could just wash away the last hour, preferably the last 24, and they could go back to _before_.

Positioning his boyfriend on the lid of the toilet, Dom asked him softly,  “Do you think you can undress and get in the shower?”

He got a shy nod in reply and nodded back before he turned around and left. He tried hard to avoid Chris who was standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the gun that he had picked up, undoubtedly trying to process what they’d just gone through. Dom swallowed thickly. The knot in his stomach only tightened at the thought that the item was only there because he’d packed it.

Wordlessly, Dom knelt down next to the bag and shuffled through the clothes, trying to find something for Matt to wear after his shower. He could almost feel Chris’ eyes burning into his back, but he refused to acknowledge him.

He entered the bathroom to the sound of water running. The image he was met with made his grip on the clothes tighten.

Matt was sitting on the floor of the shower. He was still fully clothed and the water soaked the t-shirt which clung to his small frame. He was hugging his knees tightly and his head hung forward, the water running down his nose. He looked so vulnerable that Dom could almost feel his heart aching in his ribcage.

He put the clothes down and walked to the shower slowly as to not upset Matt and stretched a hand out towards the water. It was freezing cold, so he turned the tap to the other side and waited until he could feel warmth arriving. Matt didn’t move when he sat down at his side and placed an arm around him, his chin resting on the singer’s shoulder. The feeling of water hitting his back and sticking his own t-shirt to his skin felt strangely relaxing.

“I’m sorry,” Matt whispered. His voice was nearly lost in the sound of the water hitting the tiles. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologise. I love you, you hear me? We’ll fix it. I promise we’ll fix it.”

He kissed his shoulder and tilted his head to the side to rest it against Matt’s, his eyes raising to the door and staring at Chris who looked at him just as helplessly as he felt.

 


	10. 010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to festive_tights at Museslash for taking the time between her preparation for epic travelling to beta this chapter for us! (and we're doing better too, look at us - less than a month between updates!)

The flat was profoundly silent once Chris put the phone down, after a short but difficult conversation with Kelly. He had said as little as possible not to worry her, but she knew better. Leaving in the middle of the night and mumbling about Matt and Dom needing him had been alarming enough. It pained him to lie, but he had sworn to Matt he wouldn’t ever disclose anything about his connection to the MI6. He was prepared to take his secret to the grave if that was Matt’s wish.

He swore under his breath and craned his neck to check the bedroom. He couldn’t see anything, so he slowly walked to the room, glancing back at the couch for a moment where he’d safely hidden the gun under the cushions.

His bandmates were both in bed under the sheets. Dom was sitting with his back against the headboard while Matt was lying with his head in his lap. Chris couldn’t see the singer’s face from where was standing , but he seemed asleep, one arm bent in an awkward position on top of the duvet. Dom, on the other hand, was well awake. With dark bags under his eyes and his unshaven face looking incredibly gaunt, it struck Chris how he seemed to have aged a decade since the day before. He wondered whether he looked the same. 

He walked around the bed to check on Matt and crouched on the floor before him. He was awake after all. His eyes, however, seemed to have permanently lost their brightness, glassy and fixed on the wall somewhere. The vacant stare made Chris wonder if Matt was even in the same room as his two childhood friends.

“Matt? Can you hear me?” he whispered. “It’s me, it’s Chris.”

The singer’s gaze swerved slowly to Chris and he blinked, but there was no reaction otherwise. His head turned and he was back at staring into nothingness.

Chris swallowed and stood up, rubbing his face in distress. He let out a shaky breath before he turned to Dom and motioned with his head to the door. 

Dom shifted in bed to gently pull Matt out of his lap and adjusted the pillows and blankets over him to follow the bassist out with his head down.

“It’s all my fault,” Dom muttered as soon as they were out of earshot and turned away from his friend in shame. “I packed it.”

“What are you talking about?“

“He said someone was after him and I thought…” He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before continuing. The guilt choked him from the inside. “He almost shot himself because I thought it was a good idea to bring the gun with us.”

He could feel Chris’ presence lingering behind him now and awaited his judgment. A lecture, harsh words, a punch… He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew that he’d earned any of the possibilities. How could he have been so stupid? He’d acted without thinking and they had nearly paid the price. Whatever Chris was going to do, he deserved it.

But the bassist just slung his arms around him and pressed himself against Dom’s shaking body.

He accepted the hug readily,, realising how much he needed that small bit of comfort. A quivering breath escaped his lips.

“Why are you not angry?” Dom questioned softly. “You should be angry with me. I was stupid and Matt almost killed us and himself and you should be fucking angry with me.”

“Now’s not the time to start pointing fingers. I’m just glad everyone is okay. I don’t want to think about ever losing any of you twats.”

Dom nodded and took a deep breath. Chris was – once again – right. They were okay, and this was the most important thing, at least for the time being. They’d have to be as cautious as possible in the future, but danger had passed without any of them getting hurt.

“We have more important things to talk about, Dom. We need to get Matt to a doctor.”

The drummer looked down again. “He calmed down, it’s alright now, isn’t it? It’s under control.”

“ _ Under control _ ?” Chris widened his eyes and let go of the other man, putting some distance between them. He pointed in the bedroom’s direction. “Nothing is  _ under control _ . He looks like a fucking zombie, Dom. Look at him. Look at his eyes. I don’t think he’s recognised me at all.”

Dom shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “He’s better now, I think.“

“Dom-”

The drummer sighed and turned around. His eyes conveyed a stubbornness that even rivaled Matt’s. “We can’t very well tell a doctor what he tried to do in London, can we? Or what happened here. How can anyone do an accurate diagnosis without having all the data, which we can’t share with anyone anyway?”

“Then we call his boss, she’ll know what to do.”

“Well yes, that’s what I‘ve been thinking too. But not now, not yet. Just… give it some time until...“ He shrugged helplessly.

“Until what, Dom?” He waited for an answer, but Dom was avoiding his eyes now, all bravado gone. “Do you think he’s gonna recover by staying in bed or running away?”

“But if we could give it a little more time-“

“Time for what, Dom? He needs professional help, you know that as well as I do.”

Dom growled . “They’re gonna lock him up, Chris! I can’t let them do that! He tried to kill M!”

“Of course they’re gonna lock him up, he’s a professionally trained agent gone mental,” Chris countered. “He’s dangerous, a loose cannon, and it’s for his own good. He almost murdered the head of the Secret Service, for fuck’s sake! He almost killed himself, he almost killed  _ you _ !” 

The nature of the events sunk in as they spoke of them aloud and Chris didn’t say another word as Dom turned around and walked to the window, covering his head with his arms. Chris allowed the other man the space, one arm crossed in front of his chest and a closed hand against his mouth.

“You have to talk to his boss, Dom,” Chris repeated in a gentler tone. “They are the only ones who can find a reason and a cure for whatever he has. He’s a threat to everyone around him and to himself. It’s a health matter too. What if he has a seizure or a heart attack or...” He opened his arms helplessly.

“I’m so afraid,” Dom admitted quietly.

“I know and so am I. But there’s nothing else we can do. That guy over there.” He pointed to the room. “That’s not our Matt. Someone tampered with his head or filled him up with drugs or whatever it is they did to him… He needs help. Please, Dom.”

Dom sighed and crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest, nodding. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll call her.”

“Best to do it before she finds us too. Fuck knows why they haven’t even been here, to be honest.” He approached the window and laid a warm hand on Dom’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright, yeah?”

Dom nodded hesitatingly, then with more conviction before he looked up at his bandmate. 

“Yeah. It’s the best we can do for him.”

“Come here, you arse.” Chris pulled him into another hug and patted his back before he stepped back again, staring at him with a hand around his neck. “Now go ge-” 

It came without warning. There was a loud bang coming from the main door. They only had time to pull away from each other before the flat was invaded by a group of armed men in uniforms. They barged in with the precision of professionals and yelled at the two musicians while training their weapons on them.

“Hands in the air! Do it! Now!”

Arms immediately raised in response to the orders, they found themselves unable to utter a single word as they were shoved forwards to face the nearest wall. Hands patted them over the clothes from head to toe before their wrists were roughly pulled down and clasped in handcuffs behind their backs. Outside, a distant noise of rotating blades coming closer signaled the approach of a helicopter. Dom and Chris glanced at each other, easily reading each other’s minds; they were fucked.

From the bedroom, the whirlwind invasion was met with a different reaction and the two friends momentarily forgot their own predicament.

“Let me go! Let me go, I know who you are, fuckers! I’m going to expose you! All of you!” 

From the corner of their eyes, they spotted four men struggling to drag Matt outside by his arms and legs as he squirmed and twisted in their grip, his body bending and contorting in unnatural shapes. The noise of the engine and the airstream outside was deafening now, but it didn’t drown the singer’s voice.

“What did you do to him? I know he’s here!  _ Dom _ !”

“Matthew.”

Everyone stopped in their tracks at the voice coming over from the main door, including Matt, who halted and whose jaw dropped open. M stood at the entrance and there was no doubt he recognised his superior. 

“We’re here to help you, please do not make this harder on yourself,” she spoke calmly, her fingers interlaced at her front.

“M! What the fuck is going on?” He pulled again, another bout of struggle following. “Where’s Dom? Where’s everyone? They’re in danger, we need to help them!” 

Dom couldn’t watch any longer without intervening, the distraught in Matt’s voice too much to take. Encouraged by M’s seemingly appeasing stance, he pushed against the officer next to him.

“Matt, I’m here,” he said, his voice shaking. The iron claw which clamped on his arm didn’t allow him to move closer, but at least he didn’t end up face first on the floor. “I’m okay. Nobody hurt us. Chris is here too, see? We’re all fine.” 

Chris nodded at him to underline Dom’s words, but Matt’s eyes were trained on the handcuffs binding his friend’s wrists. Finding Dom in much the same state, he lashed out again, the agents around him struggling to keep him still.

“What are you fucking doing?! Let them go, Dom’s got nothing to do with the list!”

Dom frowned at the outburst until things clicked, his heart sinking at the realisation. There was only one list he could be talking about and that had been solved a year ago. 

“No, indeed he doesn’t,” M stated matter of factly. “But we need you to help us find out who is interfering with my officers, Matthew. Now calm yourself down.”

Matt’s eyes were wide as saucers and he was sweating profusely, his clothes in disarray, but he didn’t challenge her. He only stared at her thoughtfully, the agitation gradually leaving his body. 

“Where are we?” he finally whispered.

The agents holding him tightened their grip, but he didn’t struggle against them this time. 

“We’re in North England, but we will be at the MI6, soon enough,” M replied before she addressed her men with a grumble, “Take him.” 

They watched them go. Matt’s body was still taut with tension, but no longer struggling, and he craned his head, looking for Dom. The drummer gave him what he hoped was a comforting smile. But as soon as they were out of the door, he bent at the waist and dropped on his knees in defeat. The click of heels coming nearer made him glance up. M stared down at him with what may have been the gentlest expression he’d ever seen on her. 

“The two of you will come with me,” she said without further ado. “Handcuffs can come off.”

***

_ Thursday, 5th November 2015 _

_ London, United Kingdom _

 

There had been two helicopters in the end. One to take Matt and what seemed like an army of agents and the second for M and the two musicians. There was no dialogue. Destination: Vauxhall Cross. 

Dom and Chris were then escorted from one room to another upon their arrival at the MI6 headquarters. At last, they were left on their own in what Dom immediately recognised as the same room he’d been in with Matt about a year before - M’s office.

It had been over three hours since the break in at the flat in Leeds. Three hours without answers. The waiting was agony and didn’t help at all with Dom’s aching body and the guilty conscience weighing on him heavily. By his side, Chris sighed for the umpteenth time. 

He knew this had been the only option left, and still… He wished he could have done it on his own. Matt had come to  _ him _ for help, had begged  _ him _ to do something, anything, and  _ he  _ had failed. Not only that, he’d probably made it all worse with his ignorance. He’d brought himself into unnecessary danger and, worse, he’d played with Matt’s life too.   

“Dom.”

He looked up to see Chris studying him intently. Judging by his serious expression he’d been doing so for quite some time now and could read his friend like a book. Heat pooled in his cheeks.

“Stop thinking.”

“I know, it’s just…”

How could he tell his best friend exactly how he felt? That he wasn’t worried about his life, but that the thought of Matt pointing the gun at his own head and almost blowing his brains out was what he was sure would haunt him for a very long time? Chris had told him he knew that Matt would never forgive himself if he hurt Dom, but truthfully this went both ways..

“M doesn’t seem so bad,” Chris said suddenly, in a way of changing the subject, much to Dom’s relief. “Definitely got the sense that her main concern is to fix what’s wrong with Matt, don’t you think?”

Dom agreed. Her presence alone and the way she had addressed Matt had been encouraging, but there was still much to discuss. “Could’ve been worse, but I’d rather wait and see. He did shoot people, after all.” His stomach contracted painfully at the memory.

“But what are they supposed to do if he’s not himself? I don’t know, I just got a good vibe from her.” There was a pause before Chris continued with a smile. “You know, going by Matt’s stories, you’d think she’s the devil incarnate.” 

Dom smiled despite himself. Nobody knew better than him how much Matt could whine about his boss, as the prime target of his bitching and the witness to many shouting matches over the phone. But he also knew how difficult Matt could be, and so did Chris.

“He’s exaggerating, as usual. She’s scary, but really not so bad.” He thought it over. “If anything, Matt’s the petulant child and she’s the very strict mum.”

He could see Chris trying to piece the little information he’d got over the year together in his head and imagine just how a meeting between the two could look before he grimaced and suddenly burst out laughing. Dom couldn’t help himself and joined in, the knot in his stomach easing at least for the time being.

They were brought back to reality when the click of a door alerted them to someone’s arrival. M entered the office and both Dom and Chris stood up out of politeness.

“Mr. Howard, Mr. Wolstenholme,” she said before she sat in the chair opposite of them, the two men sitting back down as well.

“How is he?”

“Matthew’s fine, or rather, as fine as the situation permits,” she replied and eyed Dom sternly. “Dominic, I thought we had an understanding. You should have informed me straight away of his whereabouts. What gave you the idea to try hiding him away like that, even though you knew how dangerous he was? The consequences could have been severe and the damage irreversible.” 

Dom stiffened at the harsh words. He would not allow himself to be intimidated. “He killed one of your bodyguards and tried to kill you. Did you expect me to think you’d be more concerned about his health than with making sure he wouldn’t try the same again? And I was gonna call you anyway, there is no one else that could help and unfortunately he hasn’t really improved since you last saw him.”

“First of all,” she started in the same firm tone. “MB-7 rarely misses, but thankfully both my agents survived. One is still in critical condition, but he’s out of the coma, so we’re hoping to see visible improvement the next few days. And second, we do not make a habit of locking up our best officers when matters go wrong, certainly not without finding what the cause is. And in Matthew’s case, as you have already concluded yourself, his health is very much connected to his actions.” She crossed her legs under the desk, leaning back in her chair. “The only reason you weren’t intercepted sooner was because I had to discuss this matter of urgency with the Foreign Secretary and once we realised you were on the run, I had to gather and brief a team with very specific instructions, given the confidentiality of the case. A waste of time and resources, in short.” She paused, but Dom said nothing. “We’re on the same side, Mr. Howard. I expect your full cooperation from now on, so that I am also at liberty to update you on his progress.”

Dom felt his ears flushing with fury, his fingers curling and uncurling to relieve stress. Maybe there was more behind the veiled threat, including concern, but he didn’t appreciate being put against the wall like that.

“Mr. Howard, may I or may I not count on your cooperation?”

Chris looked aside at his bandmate questioningly. This was the time to stick together not to perpretate conflicts or, hell, let egos get in the way. He rubbed his sweaty hands down on his thighs and was preparing to speak up when Dom lifted his head and stared straight at M.

“For Matt, always.”

“Good,” she said with a slightly more pleased face. “I didn’t expect anything different from you. Now.” She leaned forward and interlaced her hands on top of the desk. “What do you and Mr. Wolstenholme know about the  _ Monarch  _ program?”

The radical change of subject didn’t shock Dom and Chris as much as the actual subject she brought up. They exchanged a look.

“ _ Monarch _ ? Matt wrote our entire last album about it.” Dom hesitated. “It’s a form of mind control. The victim is made to execute whatever the- Wait, you don’t actually think..?”

His first instinct was to jump at the idea and believe it was the most logical explanation for Matt’s odd behaviour. It was almost a relief if so. Not for the first time had the thought entered his mind, but he’d dismissed it quickly as it seemed so surreal. But if he’d been brainwashed then that meant they only had to revert the process and all would be well soon. 

On the other hand, as soon as the thought hit him, the drummer shuddered in perturbation. He didn’t know half as much as Matt on the subject, but he sure knew more than he probably wanted as Matt would often quote something he had read or share bits of information he deemed interesting with him. And the particulars of the methods used \- such as the amount of torture and the extreme situations the victims were put through in order to be dissociated from reality and turned prone to accept whatever their handler wanted them to - it was enough to make Dom feel sick at the mere suggestion of Matt having been put through the same.

“Matt would be the first to recognise it, had he been…” Chris swallowed and didn’t finish the sentence.

“Not if he were led away from the possibility.”

“I’m sorry, but,” Dom took a deep breath. “Are you saying he was brainwashed? That someone wanted to make him a-”

“Drone,” Chris concluded with a grimace. 

The notion seemed as ridiculous as the discovery of Matt working as a secret agent for the MI6. And yet, once again, here they were discussing the impossible. 

“Is there evidence?” Dom eventually asked.

“Suffice to say we’ve gathered enough material to assume so.”

“So, if you already know what’s happened to him it’s just a matter of finding out who did it, right?” Chris continued, looking aside at Dom for confirmation. The drummer had gone pale.

“Unfortunately it isn’t as simple,” M began. “The purpose - or at least one of the purposes, because we have yet to find out what is behind this - was of course to kill me. Q also discovered several corrupted files in our system. Whether it was to copy the information or simply alter it we do not know yet. CCTV also shows someone who we believe to have been Matthew outside my house on Tuesday night. The only reason I wasn’t home was because I was held up at a meeting with the Prime Minister. It was too trivial to be acknowledged as a security concern, but now all these oddities start to fall into place. 

“For a highly skilled officer like Matthew to be successfully persuaded into this, it isn’t light work, as you can imagine. But the  _ Monarch  _ principles couldn’t have been applied to him as we know them. It would be impossible for it to happen without us realising it, let alone in such a short amount of time.”

Dom almost breathed out in relief, despite realising that it didn’t exactly made things better. “So, all that, you know, torture stuff, for example. Maybe it didn’t happen?” Could it be possible that Matt had been subjected to something like that without him realising it? Apart from the obvious, the thought was making him feel incredibly uncomfortable with himself too. How could he not have noticed?

“We do not yet know how it was done. But he isn’t the first case and unfortunately it didn’t end well for the other officer. You may have heard about it in the news, although no information whatsoever was disclosed.” 

Chris widened his eyes and glanced at Dom before facing M again. “You mean that bloke who killed himself? I saw it in the newspaper, even chatted about it with Matt.”

“Yes.” She stared at him over her reading glasses. “We will now be able to track similarities between the two cases. We must find out who is behind this and what their objective is before they strike again and more people are harmed.”

“What about Matt? How is he going to be treated?”

“He will be followed by a specialised therapist. She is acquainting herself with all the details as we speak and has already prescribed some medication to stabilise him. And this is where we are going to need your help, naturally counting on your discretion.“ She leaned back forward and gazed at them intensely. “We need to know exactly how he has behaved until today, all his habits and routines and everything that may have caught your attention in the past few weeks. We have a tentative initial date for when the downward spiral began, somewhere in October when you were travelling South America. We already know what triggered him that night he made an attempt on my life-”

“You mean the phone call,” Dom interrupted.

“The song you heard.” She nodded. “The more information we have, the sooner we will be able to bring Matthew back to normalcy and catch the culprit.”

“What about his other therapist?” Dom asked. “Matt’s visited him regularly, he might know something too, no?”

“What therapist?”

“The one you assigned him to?” he replied unsurely.

“I did not assign a therapist to him at any point.”

“But… But you did. Matt said you did it after he screwed up in Brazil.”

M looked at him blankly. He blanched, the bassist staring at her in disbelief as well . Matt had stated several times his distaste for his therapist and how he was pissed off with M for forcing him to see him. And now Dom had to find out that she didn’t even know about it. It was clear that it had been part of the whole plot and they hadn’t had the slightest inkling. It had gone right under their noses.

“Mr. Howard, Mr. Wolstenholme, I don’t think I need to tell you just how serious this situation is. We need your full support and solve this case urgently before someone else gets caught up in this web.”

The two friends glanced at each other, determined matching expressions across their faces, and nodded in unison. They would do everything in their power.

Dom turned to her, his voice unwavering. “When do we start?”

***

It was raining outside.

Where ”outside” was, Matt wasn’t sure.. Safe from the pouring rain, he was situated in bed with an IV drip attached to his left arm, in what was surely a hospital room. A plain white, sterile environment that didn’t alleviate the lethargy he felt owning him. 

He had no recollection of how long he’d been there or why and details about how he’d ended up there were hazy too. Trying to go back in time made him anxious and caused an immediate dull throbbing in the centre of his head, so he’d quickly given up.

It was all a blur. His head was heavy and empty at the same time and yet as if it was bursting with activity but being tamed by some external force. It was difficult to concentrate on anything, and he only wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep, even though he couldn’t have been awake for more than a few minutes. There was a TV in the room, but it was switched off and Matt wasn’t sure he even wanted it on. Apart from the rain hitting the windows heavily, there wasn’t a sound to be heard and it soon began to bother him. He felt like he had his ears stuffed with cotton pads too, but there was nothing interfering with his hearing when he poked at them with a finger. 

But then something broke the silence. A metallic sound from far away. When he opened his eyes, there was someone in the room, observing him. A woman. Was she a nurse? Pale, with straight, light brown shoulder length hair and black rimmed glasses, she seemed to have been dispatched there straight from university, so young she appeared. She wore a white lab coat and held an iPad in her hands. She seemed almost part of the furniture, her red lipstick the only vibrant thing in the entire room. 

“Hello.”

She had a soft, high voice. He hesitated, something about her demeanour putting him off. “Hi.”

“May I sit with you?”

His eyes swerved to the white chair near the wall, both things nearly merging together in the background. He nodded. She picked it up without dragging it across the floor and placed it next to him, leaving some space between them. She sat with her back straight and her knees together, not removing her gaze from him for a moment.

“I’m T. What’s your name?”

Matt eyed her carefully. She would have a file with his name, wouldn’t she? Unless he wasn’t in a hospital and this wasn’t a nurse. He didn’t know who she was and he was without recollection what had happened before. He felt queasy. 

When he didn’t reply she reformulated her question, “Do you remember your name?” 

“I do,” he answered earnestly. He wasn’t going to tell her his name without more information, though. “Where am I?”

“At the MI6. We’re in London. Do you know why?” She waited for an answer that didn’t come. “Your name is Matthew James Bellamy and you’re an intelligence officer for the MI6, who’s been working in a special project directly under M’s supervision for a number of years.” She paused once again, waiting for his reaction. 

Of course he knew all that. He just didn’t know  _ her _ and how she’d gotten her hands on this information. Even in the MI6 it was highly classified. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“A few days ago you left your house in London and tried to kill her.”

His heart skipped a beat. He had  _ what _ ? He shook his head in distress; no that couldn’t be. There had to be some misunderstanding. He wouldn’t do such a thing. 

“Do you remember doing that?”

“No,” he breathed. He wanted to blurt out that she was lying and ask why she would say something like that. Worst of all, could it be true? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You didn’t kill anyone, but we need to understand what happened.” She paused to allow him to digest the information, but he could only shake his head, trying to mask his utter shock. “You’ve suffered some form of brainwashing and that is the reason why you don’t remember that among many other things.”

“Who the hell are you?” he questioned.

“I’ll be your therapist, Matthew. And we’re here to deprogram you.” 

 


	11. 011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you SO much for all the nominations, reviews and votes for the MB-7 Universe in the MS Awards! We may have flailed a little… above all we’re extremely proud and flattered as this series means so much to us. Thank you for giving Richard Sadik and Matt trophies for Best Characters, and for best Sex Scene as well. We like to think Sadik in particular celebrated in style - all three awards ;-)
> 
> Apologies for the delay in the update, again Muse to blame. This is a long one though, so hopefully it’ll make up for the wait!

_9th November 2015_

_London, United Kingdom_

 

Sitting on a chair near the window, with his feet up on another in front of him, Matt stared outside. He could oversee the Thames from his position, a dark mass of wild water whipped by the late autumn winds. A few cars crossed Vauxhall Bridge, but they never held Matt’s attention for very long. 

Most visits in the past couple of days had been from nurses and the therapist, who’d been trying with him a couple of methods to organise and bring back memories that seemed to have been deleted from his brain. Restlessness was creeping in badly. Physically, he could tell he was improving leaps and bounds from whatever state he’d been in before, but the confusion in his head was unparallelled. Locked up and only authorised to see Dom - and no more than a couple of times at that - he was confined to that bloody room and to strict contact with people who he realised more and more he struggled to trust under such circumstances. He couldn’t help but question most of what he was being told.

The recovery of memories was very much a priority and nobody wished for it harder than Matt himself. He was well aware there were things missing and others had been added, some were product of hallucinations and he couldn’t tell what in his head was real from what was fake. At the same time, he couldn’t apply himself in the task fully when he wasn’t sure how T would use their findings. She had told him he’d been brainwashed to try and murder Ma version of events that Dom had confirmed to him too. He had no recollection of it, but accepted it, if only for no other reason than the fact that it was one of the few things that made sense in his current predicament.

But still… What if it was all a lie and there was someone _now_ trying to control him? He felt so dissociated from reality that it was immensely difficult to sort between truth and myth, and trying to do so exhausted him. He spent the majority of the days sleeping. The TV bored him, he didn’t have any desire to go online to get in touch with anyone, even if he had been allowed. What he wanted was to play some music to help him relax and free his mind. However, his request for a piano had been overruled… T had said they needed a calm environment for the task at hand first because she wasn’t sure whether he was ready for what could cause intense emotional reactions. But what if it was none of that? Just because she was working for the MI6 it didn’t mean she wasn’t doing a side project of her own. She could very well try to isolate and dull his senses even more, make him prone to whatever she had planned for him. He’d read enough about mind control to know what these people were capable of.

A knock on the door indicated her arrival and he replied with a simple “Come in”. He was no fool, he knew this was no hotel or guest room, he was - in a way - imprisoned. But he couldn’t deny he liked that she at least had the decency to knock. Not that he had any privacy, judging by the camera he’d found hidden the other day. He hadn’t touched it, but upon asking about the motive, he’d simply been told it was for monitoring his progress. The camera had suddenly vanished the following morning and put somewhere else. He pretended he hadn’t noticed it.

They didn’t make any progress during today’s session, with Matt opting to evade most of her questions. She was treading dangerously close to intimate subjects he was not going to talk about, not to her or anyone else. Discussing Dom, for example, was off boundaries. The fact that she was even asking about him only added to his suspicion and reservations. If this was indeed about his work with the MI6 and what had happened at M’s, there was no reason to bring the band into this. Protecting them had been the one thing he valued above all for the entirety of his career at the MI6.

“We need to be on the same page, Matthew.”

He rubbed his eyes in exasperation. “You know what this therapy is? Bollocks.”

“What about that therapy you were doing recently?” she countered. “Was it any better?”

He hesitated. He couldn’t really remember much of it, if he was being honest with himself. Only that M had forced him into it after he had screwed up an operation.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?”

“ _Him._ ” She leaned forward in her seat, her eyes boring into his with a sparkle. “A male. Can you describe him for me?”

He shrugged and looked away. The words had easily slipped out, so they must have been true, but he couldn’t remember the doctor’s face. His mind was blank in that regard too and dwelling on it agitated himfor some reason.

She left shortly after that, as they were making frustratingly little progress. Ignoring the books she’d brought him to help pass the time, he returned to his place next to the window. Sore muscles in his neck caused discomfort and he rubbed at it, grimacing and turning his face away from the camera.

He sighed and thought of Dom again, and how he’d tell him what a downright cunt he’d been to T today.  

 _You have the best therapist in the field working with you,”_ he’d said the other day after being told Matt wasn’t cooperating. _“Let her do her job and you’ll be back to your usual twatty self soon enough.”_

Snorting at the memory, the singer leaned his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He wondered when his partner would be able to visit again. He hated being unable to talk to him on a regular basis about the most trivial things. He also often wondered how the rehearsals were going without him. Probably great, with him unable to pester everyone. He longed to be with his friends.

Next time T asked him to cooperate, he’d work with her, he vowed to himself. He wanted out and she was the only way. Dom trusted her and he trusted Dom, so he had no choice but to ignore his instincts and put himself into her hands. If he couldn’t trust her for himself, then he’d at least bite the bullet for Dom.

***

Dom looked outside the window as the car stopped at the gate of the MI6 headquarters for security procedures. He knew Matt was in one of those rooms and hoped he could catch a glimpse of him. Night had fallen long ago and so several rooms were illuminated. Maybe he was in one of those and if he squinted, maybe he could spot him? But before he even had the chance to do it, the car sped up inside and he missed the opportunity.

He’d talked to M regularly since they had brought Matt in, but not nearly as much as he’d wanted and he hadn’t been allowed to see the singer as much as he’d hoped for either. He hadn’t had the chance to see and talk to him outside of their scheduled appointments. But they’d agreed that it was best if T could work with him quietly without any external disruptions and Dom had been considered one of these factors. Tonight, however, things were different. The head of the Secret Service herself had specifically requested Dom’s presence for a meeting. According to the therapist’s reports, they were progressing very slowly, but Matt’s condition was much more stable. From the little time they’d been spending together, Dom could agree on that; the singer seemed much less nervous and aggressive. The paranoia was still there, but nothing compared to what he had experienced only a few days before.

Dom was led throughout several corridors to M’s office. By now, he could almost remember the way himself, so often he’d been there in the past days. M hadn’t arrived yet, but he was invited to sit and offered a drink, which he declined politely. The only thing he wanted wasnews.

The door opened after what seemed like an eternity and M and T came in, the therapist not wearing the lab coat she’d donned the first time he’d met her but just a suit. They greeted him with a customary handshake and joined him on the couch.

“How is he?” Dom blurted immediately.

M looked at T, who adjusted her glasses and filled one of the glasses on the coffee table with water for herself before speaking.

“The medication is working well. He’s much more relaxed and better rested, and the nights, which were an issue you detected, no longer pose a problem. We’re already working towards reducing the sleeping pill dose, although we’re keeping everything else for the moment. He’s stopped thinking he’s being followed, but that doesn’t mean that his paranoia has been completely eliminated.” She took a sip of water. “As for the rest, we still have a lot of work to do. His memory is quite damaged, as I’m sure you’re aware, and fixing it takes time. Think of it as an intermittent light; one moment things are there, the next they’re not and then they’re back again. What we need to do, though, and that is proving to be the most difficult, is to shed light on those which are still completely in the dark for him. He is confused because he can’t piece events and things together and he has trouble identifying whether some situations are real or were induced by hallucinations. The good news is, he is very aware of it now and that is a good starting point.

“However. he still refuses to cooperate fully. He is suspicious and doesn’t trust me or what I say. Trying to talk about his music or Mr. Howard results in absolute silence on his part. It’s becoming an obstacle in his recovery.”

“What do you suggest then?” M questioned.

“The problem is that with Matthew you can’t use the therapy approaches you’d use for normal amnesia patients, he’s got a specialised form of brain damage. We have to re-train neural pathways to improve his neuro-mnemonic functions. Which means, simply put, he needs to re-learn how to remember. I gave him the task of journaling his days to help with that. It forces him to focus on the act of remembering and helps with the natural process of rehabilitation at the same time. A very effective side-effect is that he also manifests his persona. Victims of this form of mind control suffer from multiple personalities, as you might have heard, and giving his core persona more control lessens the chance of him being triggered again or slipping into one of these personas. A highly structured analysis of happy memories would have helped too.”

She paused to let them process the information.

“The small tasks have worked for the first stage of treatment, but there’s only so much we can do to progress. A second stage requires a completely different approach.”

“Which is..?” Dom pressed.

“I would like to try hypnotherapy with Matthew.”

“Side effects?” M asked without batting an eyelid.

“Nothing critical, his condition is stable enough.”

“Wait. Wait.” Dom leaned forward on his seat. “What do you mean? You want to put him under hypnosis? How is that going to help? Isn’t that gonna create more confusion or false memories?”

“Only in the hands of the wrong professional.”

”And T is a certified and experienced practitioner.” M added.

“But what if he doesn’t want to? You said it yourself, he’s still too distrustful.”

M nodded at T, inviting her to continue.

The therapist adjusted her glasses again. “Hypnosis requires the patient’s consent and I very much hope Matthew is receptive to this method. It will help him relax mentally, physically and emotionally, so we can unblock the walls in his brain. I cannot control his mind or free will. But he is very strong-minded and that only makes him the perfect candidate for this therapy.” She paused. “And if he believes in it and himself, he will strive to get results.”

*** 

_13th November 2015_

_London, United Kingdom_

 

The sky was tinted in a dark grey and the low hanging clouds threatened rain. For anyone wanting to spend their afternoon outside, the weather wasn’t very inviting. For Matt, it was absolutely perfect. Currently sitting on one of the benches just outside of the MI6 building at Vauxhall Cross, he stared at the open journal in his lap in frustration. T expected him to fill the blank pages with his thoughts, but he didn’t know with what.

It felt as if he was starting from zero and had to find out about himself all over again; find out what kind of person he was and what he liked and disliked. He’d realised very quickly how having lost certain memories hadn’t just been an isolated problem; it affected his whole being and left him uncertain about who he truly was. He felt wiped of things that made him _him_ , like the storage of a computer that was deleted to make room for new data. He knew that, deep down, everything was still there and it was only a matter of time and finding a way to restore everything.

The sessions with his therapist helped in that aspect, albeit being very exhausting for his battered mind. She had insisted that they were on the right track in the recovery, and even though the small victories gave him a boost of confidence, for Matt it couldn’t be fast enough. Impatience had been one of the first character traits he had rediscovered for sure.

They’d started using hypnotherapy just a couple of days ago to help the process along after Matt had finally accepted her suggestion, first a very light form that was now gradually evolving into a medium level of hypnosis. Bit by bit he was starting to piece things together, and events that his brain had temporarily erased as a result of trauma and shock from the programming he’d been subjected to, revealed themselves. He could now tell how there were holes where there shouldn’t be any and some thoughts felt as if they weren’t his own but someone else’s. Some other things were still completely in the dark for him, no matter how hard he tried to remember; like the recollection of how he’d fallen victim to a _Monarch_ type of situation or who’d done it.

Years of crazy theories about aliens, conspiracies and drones, in addition to his work… It all had to head towards this point in his life, he mused. He’d always gone a bit too far, sticking his fingers into dangerous territory in his quest for knowledge and information that couldn’t be achieved with a simple Google search. He would have never imagined anything of that magnitude, though. Or maybe he had, he couldn’t exactly tell. However, he was able to confirm that he didn’t really want to play the main role in one of the driving forces behind an album ever again.

He poised the pen over the paper, but a gust of wind hit his face and his gaze was drawn to his surroundings. There was nothing in particular catching his attention, but he suddenly realised just how dull everything around him looked.

The headquarters of the Secret Service was a blocky, lifeless building, only interrupted by dark green tinted windows on the upper floors and white cameras scattered all over the roof. On the ground, however, there was just plain, colourless cermet. One single tiny tree stood to his left and Matt couldn’t help but think of his farm in Devon in that moment.

If he closed his eyes he could just picture the vast greens of land during a particular warm day some time in July, the Teign running along its borders, the sun hitting his face and the wind rustling in the huge trees. He thought of his sheep and smiled to himself, the pen in his hand scraping along the paper. In the summer, they’d spend almost all day on the green fields and munch on the grass there, content with just that.

He opened his eyes again when he realised that he had been daydreaming and stared at the journal to see what he’d absentmindedly written. To his surprise, there were no words, but right in the corner he’d doodled a little sheep, complete with some badly drawn grass and a shoddy little sun in the sky. He snorted. Dom had always been the best of them all at arts.

“What’s so funny?”

He pulled his head backwards so he could look behind himself and saw Dom approaching, the drummer wrapped in a black coat, a thick scarf slung around his neck. His hands were in his pockets and he looked down at Matt unsurely, only sitting down next to him once it was clear his presence was welcomed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly after some comfortable silence, his gaze locked on Matt’s face.

“Better. Clearer.”

Dom smiled. “I’m glad.” He paused unsure of how to ask. “Can you remember what happened at M’s already?”

Matt shook his head in dismay.

“You’ll get there. Step by step, right?” he reassured.

“I remember the hallucinations and my problem was being unable to determine whether things were real or not, which now I can. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t get to those memories.”

“You remember what you hallucinated?”

“Yeah and I wish I could forget.”

“Can I ask you...” Dom paused. “Can I ask what you saw?”

Matt pondered for a moment whether he should tell him or not, but there was no point in hiding anything anymore.

“It was Sadik.”

Dom gasped. “You saw..?”

“And he was so real that the first time I thought he had survived and I was going mad, wondering how to tell M and keep him away from you. This was at home in London and you arrived from Tesco or Waitrose or whatever right after.”

“Fucking hell, I remember that. That was when you got the vase of flowers.”

Matt snorted. “I didn’t, it was him. Or rather, he said it had been him, but obviously I must’ve gotten them for fuck knows what reason and I can’t remember.”

“He was the one you were talking to in the motel.” Dom whispered as realisation dawned on him. He should’ve known.

Matt hung his head in unease. “I almost shot you because I wanted to shoot him. I almost-” He paused, overwhelmed by guilt. “I will never be able to make it up to you and Chris, for what I made you go through.”

“It doesn’t matter, we just wish we could have done more.” Dom simply said not wanting him to brood about that particular episode. “Were there many more? Hallucinations?”

“There was another one.” He took a deep breath. “I mean, I think that one was a nightmare, but it’s still…” He shrugged.

Dom waited for him to elaborate and although he didn’t want to push it, he sensed there was something about it that deeply disturbed Matt. “What happened?”

“I-I thought he was you. And then I realised it was him.”

Dom considered the words, trying to make sense of them. “You shot me, is that it?”

“No, I mean.” He fidgeted again and looked away. “Never mind, wasn’t real anyway.”

“Which is why you can tell me what it is, yeah?”

Matt took another deep breath, regretting having broached the subject. “I woke up in bed with him and it was dark and I thought it was you. I had my back to him and because it was a fucking dream I only realised who he was when he talked and then I couldn’t push him off me. So there you go, the definition of a nightmare,” he spoke almost in one breath.

Dom bit his lip while he tried to process and fill the blanks of what he’d just heard. When the penny dropped he stared at Matt who was busy pulling at the corner of one of the journal pages. He didn’t know what to say. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

The singer just shrugged nonchalantly. “I had woken up in the meanwhile, there was no doubt it hadn’t happened. No use to waste time on it. And I didn’t want to worry you with any more crap after we’d been arguing so often already.”

It happened without Dom planning it, he just turned to the side and swung his arms around Matt’s body, the singer trying to twist away from him.

“For fuck’s sake, Dom.”

“Shut up,” he reprimanded in his ear. “I’d fucking kill him if he wasn’t already dead.”

It made Matt giggle softly and he allowed himself to relax in his hold, resting his head on Dom’s shoulder and sliding his arms around his waist in return. He felt himself getting squeezed by strong arms, a warm hug that melted his insides, Dom swaying him gently on the spot.

Matt smiled despite himself, one eye turned to the steps leading to the entrance doors of the building. “We’re gonna get busted.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Dom said, dropping a butterfly kiss on his exposed collarbone and placing a hand on the back of his neck tenderly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Matt closed his eyes and remained silent, thankful for being alive and recovering so he could taste these moments. The other man was still drawing circles on the skin at the back of his neck and he hoped these were memories he’d never lose.

“You still have a bit of a scar here,” Dom suddenly commented, his thumb brushing over a particular spot of uneven skin, feeling Matt squirm under his touch.  

“That hurts,” Matt whined, his voice muffled against Dom’s shoulder.

Dom shifted his position to nuzzle the area, one of Matt’s hands gripping his side almost painfully. “You should probably get this checked out, looks a bit weird. Could have a splinter of glass or metal lodged there. It’s been what, about three weeks?”

Powerful booming suddenly echoing in the skies made the two pull away from each other and look up. The clouds filling the sky were darker and brought rain with them. With their sitting place in the open, there was no protection from the heavy droplets.

“Let’s go inside,” Dom suggested, letting go of Matt and offering him a hand as he stood up. “Not a good idea to get ill a week before we start touring. How are you feeling about that by the way?”

“Bit nervous,” Matt admitted, using Dom’s strong grip on his hand to help him up to his feet. “But definitely looking forward to it. Last leg was a bit of a shambles.”

“We asked Glen to tell management yesterday that you were ill and we didn’t know if you were fit enough for Mexico. You know, just in case. No pressure.”

“They think I’m in rehab, don’t they?”

“Well I didn’t want to put it that way, but…” Dom shrugged. “Glen wanted to visit you, he thinks it’s stress and we didn’t deny it. We had to tell everyone you’re in LA.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said determinedly. He had to, this situation had gone on for far too long, he didn’t want anyone else to worry over him or raise more suspicion about the motives behind his absence. The show must go on.

They took shelter in the spacious foyer, standing to the side not to be in the way of people walking in and out.  

“You’ve got leaves in your hair.” Dom plucked one out from between the brown strands and stroked Matt’s hair back, noting how it was slightly wet from the rain. “T said she wanted to talk to me. Any clue what that might be about?”

Matt looked at him for a moment before deciding to speak up. “She’s gonna ask you if you mind being present for the session we have coming up in a bit.”

Dom frowned. “I thought you were supposed to be alone with the therapist?”

“She says we may need to try something more intense and that, maybe, I’d like to have you there.” He shrugged and started to walk towards the lifts, Dom following.

“Do _you_ want me there? I don’t want to unless you’re comfortable with it.”

The singer looked down at the call button, his brows creasing in thought when he replied, “I’d rather not expose you to any of that-”

“Matt-”

“- but if it helps, and she says it might make a difference, then that’s all that matters.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

***

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Howard.”

The therapist was sat behind her desk when Dom arrived at the office where she was conducting the hypnotherapy sessions with Matt. The singer was already stretched out on the couch, his head resting on one of its arms while his arms were crossed in front of his chest. His legs were crossed too, at the ankles. He didn’t seem very comfortable and Dom wondered whether instead of helping, his presence would hinder the session.

“I trust Matthew has told you why I required your presence.”

Dom could tell by the way Matt’s eyes widened that he hadn’t been supposed to have shared anything. He looked at him helplessly.

“Errr.”

“It’s okay, I was sure he’d tell you and I’m positive you’ve made the decision between the two of you without my intervention.”

They exchanged a glance and made no further comment.

“But please, have a seat.” She motioned towards one of the comfortable chairs opposite Matt and adjusted the glasses on the tip of her nose. Dom noted that she did look remarkably young. “I’d like to explain why you are here, first of all. I’ve already told Matthew and he’s agreed on attempting this route tonight.” She paused. “As you know, we’ve been doing hypnotherapy in order to reconnect with his dissociated memories. We started with a light process, very similar to what one enters through meditation, and since then we’ve ventured forth into a medium state of hypnotic regression which imitates a deep sleep. But while it has brought results, Matthew hasn’t been able to become fully emerged in the past experiences to penetrate the mental block. Understandably, it’s making him frustrated and impatient.” She paused again, probably to make sure he was still following. “So we’re going to try to reach a deeper hypnoidal level, a somnambulistic level of regression. What we’re attempting here is that Matthew re-experiences the memories as if they were happening in the present time. As you can imagine, it could be a very painful process, depending on what happened.”

Dom swallowed and rubbed his hands over his jean-clad thighs. “So if it works he’ll basically go through it all again.”

“Precisely.”

“And he knows we’re here?”

“He’ll be able to hear my voice, but otherwise he won’t be aware of his current surroundings, no.”

“So why am I here?”

“So he can reach that level of regression.” She gazed at him. “As you know, Matthew has deep trust issues, which is not unusual in _Monarch_ victims. Having a trusted presence here – you – offers the safety he needs to be able to put himself into the necessary state of mind.”

“Alright.” Dom nodded and looked at Matt, who remained unusually quiet. “But are you sure I’m not gonna, I don’t know, stop him from unconsciously wanting to get there?”

“We’ve deconstructed the situation before your arrival and I can assure you, your participation will be helpful. He’ll be able to get there because you’re making sure I can’t abuse his vulnerability. Your presence is a key point in today’s session.” She stood from behind the desk and sat in the chair next to Dom’s - opposite Matt as well - and crossed her legs, holding a notebook and a pen. “Would you like a glass of water before we proceed, Matthew?”

“I’m fine.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Any questions?” She asked, eyeing Dom. “No? Very well.”

When she started, her voice became much softer and soothing. It somehow reminded Dom of how you’d speak to a frightened animal.

“Just listen to my voice, Matthew. Let my words wash over you as you begin to feel calm. Everything else can fade away.”

He watched as Matt breathed deeply and tried to relax. It took some coaxing but soon he uncrossed his arms and let them rest on the couch, his head slightly bent to the side.

“Each muscle in your body is experiencing total relaxation,” T continued softly. “With each breath you take your body is completely relaxed. All the stress and tension leaves you with every exhalation you take. Breathe in deeply now, fill your chest and lungs.” She breathed in deeply, Matt doing the same in sync with her, followed by her exhaling. “Let the air out of your chest slowly, empty your lungs completely.”

He breathed out, but it came out shallow and irregular. His eyes were still closed, but the twitching under his eyelids and the tapping of his fingers showed his nervousness. No matter how hard he tried to follow T’s orders, he couldn’t turn off the niggling feeling in his brain that told him not to obey her. His hand extended and he patted the air blindly.

Dom caught up on what he was trying to do, but looked at T for approval. The therapist nodded and he pushed the chair closer, his hand curling around Matt’s fingers. Matt inhaled deeply again and Dom did the same, both exhaling together. Then they repeated the motion. T nodded.

“Now, relax your fingers, Matthew, then your hands. You can feel a heavy, relaxed feeling coming over you, covering you like a blanket. Let it spread over your body as I continue to talk. That heavy relaxed feeling will get stronger and stronger until it carries you into a deep, peaceful state of relaxation.”

Dom watched in absolute fascination as Matt’s hand slowly loosened from his and dropped over the edge of the couch as he succumbed right in front of his eyes, the uncomfortable downturn of his lips vanishing and the creases around his eyes easing up. He looked exactly like when he was fast asleep and Dom wondered if he was already in trance, unable to make out his surroundings.

“You can touch him, Mr. Howard,” T addressed Dom. “Let him know you’re still here.”

Not having to be told twice, he extended his hand to lay it on Matt’s shoulder. His breathing was slow now, once again reminding him of when he was asleep next to him, and he squeezed his shoulder lightly. There was no reaction other than a quiet sigh from Matt and he concentrated again on T telling the singer to visualise a staircase in his mind.

“Take the first step down and you feel yourself sinking deeper into relaxation. As you walk down the stairs, with each step you keep counting from ten down to one.”

“Ten…” Matt sighed. It might just have been Dom’s imagination, but he could have sworn that Matt’s body had melded deeper into the cushion.

“You get deeper and deeper, Matthew. Each step is a step further into your subconscious.”

“Six…”

“You step down again and feel yourself getting calmer and calmer. Go on, Matthew, go deeper.”

“Three…”

“You feel yourself sinking into the couch,” T told him. “Wonderfully supported as if you are lying on a cloud. Just allowing yourself to drift.”

“Two…” The number was slurred now, sounding like a mix of drunkenness and sleepiness. Body sunken completely into the soft leather of the couch, his limbs looked like cooked spaghetti. Dom knew that this was what was supposed to happen, but it creeped him out nonetheless.

“Your body feels as if it’s floating blissfully away, you’re relaxed weightless.”

“One…”

There was only silence and pitch black surrounding him. Matt wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to do anything else or just wait, but he felt light and comfortable and so he naturally allowed himself to remain in the same state.

_“There is just zero now. And you can imagine drifting through the centre of that zero, through a black void of nothingness.”_

He knew that he could open his eyes any time he wanted and get out of the trance, and that T would wake him up if he couldn’t leave himself. He knew she was in the room with him, and so was Dom.

But it was odd to reconcile that reality with the dream state he was in now, a limbo that reminded him of a considerably less exciting shrooms trip. All of a sudden, the bubble of nothingness surrounding him gave way to bright light and he had to shield his eyes. When he opened them the nothingness was gone, replaced by a familiar room he’d been to more times than he could count in the past twenty years.

 _"Matthew, where are you?”_ he could hear T’s voice sounding from somewhere above him. She wasn’t there, but at the same time she was. _“What are you seeing?”_

He walked into the centre of the room, light as a feather, and looked around the interior, trying to spot anything out of order. His hand brushed over the wood of an old mahogany shelf and his gaze swerved to the appliances on the huge desk.

“I’m in M’s office,” he replied slowly. “It’s late afternoon. I can see the sunset through the windows.”

“And it’s a beautiful sunset, isn’t it?”

He froze on the spot and watched as the chair spun around, revealing its current occupant. Matt sighed and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes in a mix of defeat and annoyance.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Sadik laughed and leaned back comfortably, crossing his legs at the ankles. “The real question is, why can’t _you_ leave _me_ alone. So many people to choose from and you imagine me in your head.” His fingers stroked over the leather of the armrests and he hummed in approval. “Very nice. I could totally imagine this being my office. Although we’d have to redecorate, M’s got terrible taste. But you can call me C and we can take it from there, how does it sound?”

“I’ve got no time to deal with your shit,” Matt replied angrily. “I think I made it pretty clear that I do not want you around, so if you could just fuck off that would be much appreciated.”

One hand flying to his forehead in a dramatic manner, the back of the hand pressed to the skin, Sadik stared at the ceiling and moaned painfully. “Yes. Yes, I remember, you tried to shoot me. What a devastating thing to do, _sevgilim._ You broke my heart.” His gaze refocused on Matt, his eyes boring into the singer’s. “But then you almost shot Dominic.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, but you know it’s the truth, Matthew. He’s gonna pay the price for your decisions. Sooner or later he will-”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

They stared at each other, Matt furiously and Sadik grinning maliciously, without moving a single muscle in their bodies. Sadik stressed him out. He wanted to wake up and start again, hopefully without the unwelcome presence of his former partner. Just then he could hear T’s voice again.

_“What else is there, Matthew? Tell me what else you can see.”_

He looked up as if he could see her peeking from above, but of course he was still alone with Sadik, who had stood up from the chair, his hands clasped behind his back, and walked to the windows overlooking the Thames.

“Tell her, Matthew,” he said casually. “She can only hear you and what you want her to hear.”

He eyed Sadik’s back suspiciously, contemplating what to do. This was no hallucination, that much Matt was certain so why was seeing him again? Was this a sign they should restart? His gut instinct told him something else. He finally replied, “There’s nothing else, lights are dimmed and I’m all alone.”

“Keeping secrets again, aren’t you, Matthew? Then again, imagine if Dominic knew I’m keeping you company here, he’d have a stroke for sure.”

“Blimey, I wonder why.”

He turned away from the other man to inspect his surroundings more. If he wanted to get anywhere with the hypnosis he couldn’t stay in this room and have a chat with the man who taunted his very being. But the room oddly had no doors, the space where it used to be just another wall. He checked the shelf again, searching through the books there for any hidden lever or sign of what to do. Maybe this was like a puzzle and he had to find the answers he was looking for by solving the riddles his own mind was giving him.

Matt could feel air swishing next to him and the hairs on his arms stood up in anticipation. When he looked to the side Sadik was standing right next to him, watching him over his shoulder and grinning as soon as their eyes locked. He jumped away, but Sadik held him by the arm. Something preventedhim from lashing out.

“You can’t find what you’re looking for in books, Matthew. All the reading you’ve done hasn’t helped you in the slightest.”

“And you will help?” Matt snorted. “You’re one of the reasons I’m even here.”

“So it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?” He was dangerously close to Matt’s face now. “You and me, together.”

“No, thanks.”

“One last operation. It’s not like you’ve got much choice,” Sadik scolded.

Probably the first thing his old mentor had said that made sense; it didn’t seem like Matt’s subconsciousness would let him out of this situation, or at least get rid of the other man. It didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

Sadik’s right hand moved to his neck and Matt growled in warning. The ex-agent ignored it and stroked the skin at the back of his neck before he travelled to the front, his fingers fanning out in the middle of the small chest. One more move and he’d punch him square in the jaw.

“Let’s begin then, shall we?”

He pushed Matt backwards and the singer flailed, waiting for the impact of the fall, but it never came. Instead, he could feel himself plunging into a bottomless void, his body being swallowed by complete darkness.

 


	12. 012

Everything was dark around him no matter where he looked and Matt shivered in discomfort. He clawed at his upper arms and walked down a path he didn’t recognise, looking for something, anything, that would show him the way.  

He could hear sounds from his left and immediately spun around to spot the source, but it was too dark. A swish of air hit him and he stumbled a couple of steps backwards. He was perfectly alert now. Ears perking up to catch any sound, his head whipped left to right while his feet carried him to an unknown destination on their own, as if his instincts knew exactly where he had to go.

The darkness around him lifted slowly the further he walked, and now he could make out a thick fog surrounding him, swirling around his chest. He swatted it away to no avail.

A shout came from his right and he looked to the side. A shadow was approaching him and he jumped, ready to defend himself. But when his likely opponent reached him they simply ran straight _through_ him. Confused, Matt looked after them.

“We’ve gotta practice your fighting skills, _sevgilim_ , that looked terrible.”

Sadik now stood next to him, his hands in his pockets and his head cocked to one side. Matt ignored him and raced after the shadow.

He could hear T whispering his name and strained his ears to understand her over the noise blocking his hearing. “ _Where are you? What are you doing?”_

“I was attacked, following the target now. Dunno where I am.”

Soon enough the fog lifted and he could at last identify his location. M’s house in Westminster. Her office, to be precise. Two men were lying on the floor. If they were unconscious or dead, Matt couldn’t tell. He leaned down to check on them, but jerked his head up again when a shout echoed and gasped.

There, right in front of him, stood the spitting image of himself, clad in a thin t-shirt and his favourite pair of trousers, holding a gun. He followed the extended arm to make out who he was pointing it at and discovered M at the other end, staring at him with what he could only describe as her trademark stubbornness. Dom stood to the side, looking at him in devastation and fear.

“I’m-“ He cleared his throat in discomfort. “I’m with M, trying to shoot her.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He’d foolishly hoped that T and Dom had been wrong, that what they had told him hadn’t actually happened, but this was the reality. He _had_ stood in M’s office with the intent of killing her, he’d attacked her two guards too - only by sheer luck not killing them - and to top it all off, Dom had been there to witness it. How much worse could it get?

But then his alter ego pulled the trigger and he watched as Dom tackled him down to the floor. The barrel of the gun only barely missed his head, but the drummer held on strong and tried to make a grab for the weapon in an attempt to disarm him. Matt wanted to dive and help him. However, he was held back by a strong hand on his shoulder - Sadik’s. He tried to escape his grip, growling at him in irritation.

“You can’t help him, Matthew, there’s nothing you can do,” Sadik said with a mighty pull, they were chest to back, his arms winding around the small body in front of him.  

Matt elbowed him off him, but he stopped abruptly at a painful wince. He saw his counterpart throwing Dom onto his back before sitting down on him. Sadik giggled behind him, but Matt didn’t exactly care as he watched himself pushing his arm against Dom’s throat to block his airways. The drummer struggled and whined, but he was unrelenting, and Matt could see the absolute terror in the other man’s grey eyes.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Dom.” he whispered.

_“Tell me what happened.”_

He ignored her. T probably knew what had happened anyway and if she didn’t, she didn’t need to know. This was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t put into words.

There was a flash of pain cutting through his head suddenly when M hit the back of his alter ego with a vase and Matt howled, his hands shooting out to hold his head. He would have stumbled to the floor if it hadn’t been for the man behind him. He could feel Sadik’s fingertips ghosting over the back of his neck in a twisted way to comfort him, but he couldn’t even struggle against it.

It took all of his power to keep his eyes open and see the other Matt looking at Dom in horror before he clambered up and ran towards them. He passed through them with a swish and then he was gone, vanished into the shadows and with him the rest of the scene. Matt dropped to the floor.

He could hear M talking to him, the shouts of the guards, Dom’s pleading. Everything crashed around him as the memories flooded back. More voices joined and only helped to intensify the pain assaulting his brain. Above all, he could hear Sadik whispering in his ear.

“Relax, Matthew. Breathe in deep and let go.”

***

The chaos and the splitting headache gave way to dead silence. The pain was gone and he sensed the environment had changed, but his heart was still racing. His eyelids were twitching and he was almost afraid of opening his eyes, wary of what he’d find. There was a faint sound of air conditioning working, so this was indoors somewhere.

_“Where are you now, Matthew?”_

The therapist’s soft voice reminded him of their current mission. He wanted to do this. He wanted to know, no matter what it took or how painful it would be. Slowly, his eyes opened and he blinked, staring around.

“I don’t… I don’t recognise it.”

It appeared to be an office of sorts. The walls were filled with bookcases, but the furniture and the decor were elegant and minimalistic, the colour pattern dominated by black and chrome. A shiny, black plush carpet covered almost the entire floor. There were a few paintings to admire on the walls, depicting surrealist images. He instantly recognised Salvador Dali’s _The Persistence of Memory_ in one of the frames, no doubt a copy. There was also a large painting with sunflowers, the artist unknown to him. He felt a shudder down his spine.

Sunflowers. The vase that he had brought home the day he’d first seen Sadik. It all made sense now.

“I think I’m at that therapist’s I was seeing. But there’s no one here.”

He directed to the window. Maybe he could locate the building from looking outside alone. He didn’t recognise the road below at first sight, but he was at least about six or seven floors up and right next to the Shard.

_“Can you describe the room to me?”_

“It looks like an office. I want to see the name of the road outside, but we’re too high up. I might be able to identify it once I get a map and-”

He flattened against the wall next to the window, the noise coming from the door indicating someone’s arrival. There was no time to hide. The door opened and in came a man he didn’t recognise. He wore a white suit and black shirt, with a crimson, silky cravat and matching pocket square, and pointy leather shoes. Wavy, gray hair impeccably slicked back and tied to a ponytail, it revealed a rather large forehead. He had very thin lips and his eyes were pale grey, almost translucent. The wrinkles around them indicated middle age, despite evidence of a careful skin care routine.

He gave no sign whatsoever of having seen Matt, which in hindsight was obvious, but the singer only half relaxed. He didn’t know the face, but he could recognise all the alarm signals his body was giving him.

“He’s here.”

 _“Who?”_ T asked.

“Him.”

The man opened a drawer and removed a tablet, which he then switched on. Matt wanted to approach him to spy on what kept his attention, but he was rooted to the floor in inexplicable fear. No more than a couple of minutes had gone by when someone knocked.

“Come in.”

There was a distinctive southern European flavour to his accent. Italian maybe? But Matt had no time to think about it further because the door opened and he saw himself, as if in a mirror, emerging through the door. Sadik was behind him, his hands clasped behind his back. The former MI6 agent continued across the room to join Matt, leaning against the window and crossing his arms in front of his chest, while his alter ego stopped in the middle of the room without a word.

“Sit.”

Stone faced, rigid posture, the second Matt obeyed the instruction and took the chair in front of the older man, his back straight. The doctor got up from his seat and stood behind Matt. He snapped his fingers in front of his face, but there was no reaction whatsoever, not even a blink of the eyes. It was followed with a hard slap to his face. Matt flinched as if hit directly and heard Sadik going “ _ouch_ ” by his side. Once again, though, there was no reaction from the Matt that had taken the blow and sat next to the office’s owner.

The doctor roughly forced the singer’s head forward until his chin touched his chest and bent over him, seemingly inspecting something on the back of his neck. Matt instantly took his hand to the same spot, his skin prickling.

“What a lovely doctor, checking on that wound you have there. I know it’s been bothering you and I tried to make it feel better during our little rendez-vous the other day.” Sadik clicked his tongue. “Shame you were too preoccupied with pushing me off to enjoy my attentions.”

Matt’s stomach turned, but he wasn’t sure if it was due to Sadik’s reminder of that nightmare or to whatever the older man was doing. He had sat back at the desk, opposite Matt, and was tapping away on his tablet, looking up every once in awhile at his patient as if checking his reactions.

But Matt couldn’t feel anything.

“I can see why you wanted to forget about him. What atrocious taste this man has," Sadik commented. “Look at that ghastly.. thing around his neck. I'd voluntarily burn in the mountain all over again if I'd ever had to wear _that._ "

All of a sudden, music began playing on the sound system, low, but the impact on Matt was so strong that he almost stumbled forward. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his mind slipping into a blank state.

 _“What is it, Matthew?”_ T’s voice floated above the music.

“There’s music.” He was struggling to keep conscious. “It’s that song, I’ve heard this before.”

_“Don’t let it get to you, Matthew. Fight it.”_

_“_ I c-can’t… _Move so fast, baby, right before you close your eyes,”_ Matt sang along in a whisper, his eyelids drooping.

_“Matthew.”_

Again, the room began spinning around him and everything went black. He passed out with Sadik whistling the tune by his side.

***

There was a click of fingers and Matt’s eyes snapped open. A pristine white ceiling stared down at him. He was lying on a fluffy surface and his fingers curled around soft material - the carpet on the Italian man’s office. He was Italian, he was sure of it now.

 _“Matthew?”_ T called out.

“I passed out, I think, but I’m still in his office.”

_“What do you see?”_

“I-”

He stopped when someone crawled by him. Raising himself up onto his elbows to check again, for a split moment he thought he was going to be sick. It was him who was apparently dragging himself on his hands and knees from the other end of the office towards the desk where the middle aged man sat. He was completely naked and with a ball gag in his mouth. Assailed by disgust and humiliation, he glanced at the window where he’d stood earlier with Sadik, the former agent stroking his beard with a glint in his eye as he watched in fascination.

“Shut up,” Matt growled before he even dared to open his mouth.

He looked back at himself, now kneeling on the floor next to the doctor. He was wearing a different suit this time, so it had to have been a different day. The singer wanted to focus and ignore the nausea burbling inside him so he could retain as much information as possible about this man who had obviously been his handler. He got up from the floor and approached the desk. He spotted no sign of chemicals or any kind of medication being used, no weapons, nothing else except the tablet that he was using, so that was his first option. He cringed as he caught view of himself on the floor, an empty, undignified shell, a mere recipient of instructions, looking up at the other man in complete serfdom.

“Good whore. You really are a natural.”

Bending forward in his chair, the grey eyed man pulled naked Matt’s head back by his hair, causing an audible crack, and unbuckled the ball gag. In reply, his alter ego moaned satisfactory. Matt turned away from the scene.

He forced himself to keep his eyes on the screen and block everything else, including the taste of rubber in his mouth. “I can see my file on the iPad, there’s a number at the top right corner. _13120_.” One of the several tabs, the one open, was labelled _Beta_. There were graphics, columns, even commands. “This looks like some sort of-”

“- software, of course.” Sadik concluded, from right behind him.

“Quiet,” Matt shook his head, itching all over and wanting nothing more than to concentrate.  “Shut up, all of you!”

He scratched at his chin in annoyance and realised it was wet with his own saliva. He wiped at it with the back of his hand, puzzled, and looked aside just in time to see the doctor kicking his second self with his pointy shoe, jabbing him in the chin.

“You’re drooling on my floor. Dirty whore.” There was no hint of lust in the pale, cruel eyes. Only the mere coldness that came with unlimited authority. “Clean it.”

Matt looked away from the two. The nebulosity was lifting and pieces were starting to fall into place. He knew exactly what he’d done next to follow the order; he’d used his tongue.

“After you’re done cleaning you’re going to get dressed and drive home. You’ve got a boyfriend, don’t you? Make sure you do everything in your power to pleasure him. You will report to me tomorrow at the same time.”

His mind controlled self didn’t react, too busy to finish his task, but it was clear that the command had reached him. Sadik bent over Matt’s shoulder to get a better view and sighed. “What a lucky guy your Dominic is,” he whispered into Matt’s ear. “I wouldn’t have minded Halloween with you bending over the table for me.”

Matt ignored his old mentor and instead followed the handler’s activity on the iPad, where he selected a different tab. It had a schedule. Matt’s gaze quickly scrolled down the page until Sadik’s finger poked at the glass of the screen, pointing at the oldest date on the list: 20th October. It was the day he’d collected the envelope in Rio de Janeiro.

That was the day it all started.

In the back of his mind he was aware that T was talking to him and that Sadik was taking another jab at his alter ego licking the man’s shoe, but he shook his head and covered his ears with both arms, wanting to bat them all away and just go back to October, a month prior, to Brazil… Everything around him spun and he felt himself becoming dizzy, something pressing on the centre of his chest and his head, leaving him breathless. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“You’re falling, falling, _falling_ , Matthew.”

He whimpered and expected himself to pass out again, but suddenly everything around him stopped. His surroundings were gone and so were all voices. He breathed out.

***

There was warmth hitting his back and his muscles relaxed. He could hear traffic, people, a busy street. It was bright, very bright and the light was now in his eyes, warming his face. He could feel traces of a smile forming on his lips and he slowly opened his eyes.

Rio de Janeiro.

Back then all was well; back then he felt relaxed and confident. Matt realised he’d sent himself back to the square where he had been to collect the envelope for the MI6, with all the problems that ensued. He turned on the spot to locate the staircase where the target was hidden and there he was, sitting near the niche. Soon, he’d reach out for the envelope and realise it was missing. He’d contact M, who’d get in touch with the CIA and it would be the start of a clusterfuck of a day,  a string of unfortunate situations which would end with him being robbed and left in a favela.

He saw himself slipping his hand into the hole… and put its contents into his trousers’ pocket. Matt frowned. His alter ego stood up and stepped down briskly, hands shoved into his pockets, as if all was well and the mission had been accomplished. No, there was something wrong… the envelope hadn’t been there and he’d immediately called M. But as he followed his own frame walking down the stairs and walk away from the location, he realised that something very strange was happening and that he had to act before he lost control over the situation.

He broke into a run across the square after his doppelganger, who had a good lead, suddenly aware that if he lost track of himself he had no way to know which route he’d taken. He’d just gone around the building after his alter ego when he realised he’d lost him. He took a couple more steps forward, quickly checking the area in complete astonishment, when he felt someone tapping his shoulder.

He turned around, fully expecting to see Sadik’s smirk, but he stumped when he realised he was wrong.

“Matthew Bellamy?”

A tall blond man, clad in shorts and a casual button down flowery button down shirt was staring back at him through dark sunglasses. Matt knew him. That was special agent Damien Jackson, the head of the CIA South American office. He wasn’t, of course, supposed to be able to identify Matt, not in this capacity - and certainly not in his own memory.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied uncertainly, a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “Can I help you?”

“Hands where I can see them.” Jackson’s tone of voice suffered no change, even as he pulled a Glock out of his pocket, the small gun partially hidden by the cotton shirt. “And turn around.”

Matt’s eyes widened. He spread his hands and kept his arms by his side. What was going on? “There must be some kind of mistake. Why are you-”

“Turn around or I’ll shoot you.”

Matt swallowed and slowly complied. This was not how it had happened. This was not how he _remembered_ it happening. The shock prevented him from preparing himself for what happened next. The faint pain of a needle piercing him where shoulder met neck shot through his brain and his hand flew to the spot on instinct while he swirled around to face the unexpected attacker. The CIA man continued to observe him passively.

“What did you do?”

The answer didn’t come in the form of speech. The singer’s vision began to blur, his legs unsteady all of sudden. His stomach was doing somersaults and Matt folded over in pain. He was going to be sick. Covered in sweat in a matter of seconds, he could no longer remain upright. He leaned against the wall for support, sliding down the surface, but he was already unconscious when he reached the floor.

***

He was floating in a limbo between the real world, where people moved around him, and his overactive mind, which processed recollections and conjectures and dreams. One minute he was back in his room at his grandmother’s, asking himself why was it so difficult to make friends. In the next one he was at Dom’s, his new mate showing him how to play power chords. There was Chris, watching him closely as he played a melody on the piano in a studio somewhere, and then a distant memory of M teaching him personally how to read code and understand MI6 slang.  

It was the smell that rose him to consciousness. Of alcohol, antiseptics and disinfectants. And the pain. It hurt and yet he couldn’t tell from where. It was general discomfort; wanting to move and his body not obeying… It was wanting to kick and scream and not having the strength. His eyes fluttered open and all he could see were shadows dancing in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and then blinked in an attempt to adjust his vision, but there was zero improvement.

It was only when a male figure in a white lab coat appeared in his field of vision that the images sharpened. His face loomed over Matt, who wanted to pull backbut without success. It was the doctor.

He forced Matt’s eyelids higher and shoved a blinding light in his eyes, one after the other, and walked away while smoothing his gray hair back down to the ponytail once he was satisfied. Matt was now more alert, glancing everywhere so he could attempt to identify his whereabouts or find any clue about the identity of these people. But there was little to work with. The room was all white. White walls and tiles, and he couldn’t see any windows. From the powerful artificial lighting, he assumed there were none. It felt like a hospital and yet his gut instinct warned him he wasn’t in any hospital at all. He tried to move his head, but it felt too heavy somehow and the simple effort made the lingering pain more intense.

With some effort, he looked down at himself. Trousers on but shirtless, he was half sitting, half lying in what appeared to be some sort of reclining chair. His arms were laid on the armrests. Only when he tried to move them did he notice the metal bands on his wrists. He instantly shook his legs to find out his ankles had been subjected to the same treatment. _No, no, no_. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt panic rising up his throat. He didn’t want to be there, he desperately wanted to extricate himself from that chair, from that place altogether.

It wasn’t necessary to recall every single moment to know that he was in deep trouble. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to detach himself from the memory, to return to an environment where he could watch it from the sidelines like before, but his breath hitched in his throat when he found himself unable to wake up. No matter how hard he tried, his surroundings wouldn’t vanish and he was unable to return to T’s office. In that moment he also realised that he could no longer hear the therapist talking to him and was assaulted with another frightening possibility; that this wasn’t part of the hypnotherapy session he’d been undergoing, but the reality.   
  
Matt could already feel himself growing dizzy in panic, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, when he remembered that Dom had been with him. Dom wouldn’t let anything happen to him, not without a fight, and he wasn’t here, so it still had to be one of his memories. He had to concentrate and collect his thoughts. If this was the only way, then so be it.   
  
One deep breath, two, and Matt opened his eyes.

His surroundings had become sharper. There was nothing new, but he didn’t have to strain so much for details and he could hear everything around him clearer. A faint melody played in the background, but he couldn’t string a thought together to place the exact location or piece. The throbbing in the centre of his head was getting stronger too and he took a deep breath, trying to remain calm so he could retain as much as possible.

“Welcome back.”

It was the doctor’s voice, reaching him from his right side. Turning in his seat proved to be an impossible task once more, his body still a dead weight and, he realised, most likely heavily sedated. This time he was able to look lower, though - as much as the metal band around his neck allowed him - and he spotted a splash of blood on his shoulder. He gasped and jerked against the restraints.

“The sooner you calm down, the faster all the pain will be gone.”

“Who’re you?” His voice sounded different, raw, the words almost unintelligible, but the other man understood him.

“I am the man you will learn to obey.”

A small buzzing noise emanated from the front and a white screen unrolled from the ceiling, just as the lighting in the room dimmed to a moderate glow. An image was projected on it, the profile of a human skull and brain in various shades of black, grey and white. Matt understood that it was an x-ray. There was a spot brighter than the rest at the back of the neck, right below the skull. He was still trying to comprehend what he was seeing when a finger pressed harshly on the exact same spot on the back of his own head. He growled in pain and clenched his teeth before he saw the image on the screen moving - it was his own skull he was seeing, in real time. It had all pointed to that fact already, but now he had the confirmation: there _was_ something on the back of his neck.

“What did you do?”

There was no reply. The area on the screen had been split into two and next to Matt’s skull were now graphics and diagrams in various colours and shapes. He saw them scrolling up at the speed of light, disappearing at the top of the frame as they passed.

“Everything is in order. No damage caused by the electrical stimulation. Implantation appears to be successful, so we will proceed with phase two straight away.”

 _Implantation_ ? Matt struggled against the bonds once more but to no avail. He stopped when the images on the screen changed and his heart almost skipped a beat. _Dom._ There was a picture of the drummer, a shot of him on stage playing, a wide smile plastered on his face. It must have been taken long ago as his hair was still blond. Matt’s fists clenched and he was about to yell in outrage, but he stopped himself in time as soon as he overcame the shock. It was most likely what the coordinator of this project was aiming at: to use his reactions as means to uncover information. He was not going to endanger Dom.

He tried to remain as still and detached as possible and give nothing away, but he could feel his body reacting, his heart rate picking up at the mere thought of his partner, no matter how hard he tried.

There were more pictures of the drummer, passing in quick succession until it changed… into a picture of Richard Sadik. He froze. How did they _know_? There was another one and then another one… He couldn’t keep the tremble that shook his body from happening. The graphics on the side continued to move alongside his reactions until the display of pictures ended.

“Subject’s brain activity hasn’t changed. Readings still match with those from previous tests. Very good. It was hard work getting there, but it was sufficient.”

Was it him? Was it Matt himself who had provided the information?

“You respond very well to musical stimuli.” The sounds in the background changed to the same blues track he’d heard before. But this time, he noted, his body didn’t react negatively to it the way it had before. “I like this song. _Flowers_ by Leon Bridges. Do you like it?”

“Fuck you.”

The doctor didn’t say anything and merely pressed a button on his console. It was as though something in the centre of his head cracked before it exploded within his skull. Unbearable pain like he’d never experienced before stretched out inside of him and attacked every cell of his being, squashing him under its power. His entire body felt like it was being pulled apart and shredded to pieces, and he screamed in agony. Blind and deaf, he was no longer aware of his surroundings. The pain disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived, but it took a while until Matt was able to hear more than himself screaming raw, his voice echoing inside his own head. The song had stopped and there was only the sound of his fast breathing.

His muscles had contracted while he had been fighting and his head had dropped back, so he was facing the ceiling now. His whole body was sore and prickling, his eyes were watery. When he looked down to check the screen he could only see an intermittent red flashing somewhere.

“I don’t need to draw blood to make you suffer unimaginable pain. From now on, I own your brain. Understand that all I need to do is to press a key on my computer and your brain will read “ _pain_ ”.” No emotion lay behind the words, just like in the office where Matt had witnessed him ordering him around like a submissive sex slave. “Every time you disobey or act unpleasant while I work, this is what you’re going to feel. Be calm and there will be no need for you to suffer.”

Matt exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers clawing weakly around the material of the armrests. He was so exhausted. His head lolled to the side and he saw blood running down his shoulder to his collarbone.

“It will also be cleaner if you stop exerting yourself for nothing. I don’t like the smell of blood.”

He managed to raise his eyes from the red trail travelling to his stomach. The screen was now showing what seemed to be a program loading. He had no idea what software was being used, but it seemed like something was being set up, with code and data being uploaded.

“You didn’t reply to my question about the song earlier and I’m not going to ask again. I can always change it later if it ends up being a bad choice.”

A green progress bar popped up, a small number underneath it indicating that 2%  of the process was completed. Matt didn’t want to believe what he was concluding. He’d known he couldn’t have been a standard _Monarch_ victim, the process having happened too fast, and it appeared he was now being presented with the how. It sounded absolutely crazy, but all clues of his memory pointed towards the fact that this man had somehow managed to find a way to access the human brain and literally program a human being to his desires. Was such a thing even possible?

“Quiet, you’re slowing down the process.”

“I won’t do it… I won’t do what you want.”

There was a quiet laugh. “They all say the same. But you can rest assured that with everything you do to make the process more difficult, you are only contributing to helping me refine and fine tune it.” He stood up from behind Matt before announcing, “This may hurt a little.”

He directed to the door with a small folder in his hands and left him alone. That was when Matt felt it; a sharp sting in the centre of his head. He looked at the progress bar - it read 45%. He tried to bend his knees, but his ankles were still tightly secured to the chair, his bound wrists prevented him from moving his arms and the collar around his neck felt as if it was closing tighter around him. He squirmed and twisted in the seat with what strength he could still muster, the restraints digging into his skin, but the pain in his head was steadily increasing the further the bar of the upload progressed.

He was aware that he wouldn’t be able to prevent any of it from happening, and yet, at the same time, he couldn’t stop struggling. The throbbing in his head grew stronger and stronger and he clenched his teeth and balled his fists, grunting low and trying to fight it. The bar showed 75% now and he felt like he was running against time. He was scared of what else would await him the deeper he dug into his memory and he wished he had another way to remember what had happened without going through it all. But even now the events were still securely locked and he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even wake up from this nightmare. He twitched under the restraints again, his body reacting to the pain on its own accord.

“Stop it!”

Nobody paid attention to his shouting. He was starting to lose his grasp on what he considered reality, getting lost and drowning in the blur his brain was becoming and it’d all be pointless-

“What are you doing, Matthew? You can’t even control yourself in your own memory. You’re an embarrassment.”

His eyes shot open again in equal amounts of surprise and fury, but he couldn’t see Sadik this time, could only hear the scorning from somewhere behind him.

“Detach yourself. Now,” his mentor commanded. “Look around you and check what you remember from that day. That’s what you came here for, you sad excuse of an officer. How old are you, twenty? Is this your first operation?”

“Shut up,” Matt ground out. He glanced at the doctor, who was now returning to his side after a quick conference with Damien Jackson at the door and then at the monitor in front of him. “I can’t see anything, I can’t find anything! The screens don’t tell me anything about him.”

“You’re blind. What does he have in his hand?” Sadik insisted. “Look at him!”

Matt focused on the approaching figure of the gray haired man. There was the small folder he’d carried, he wasn’t just working with electronic devices like he had been in his office. The Italian man bent over Matt again with the small flashing light pointed towards his eyes. His watch was turned downwards and Matt could see the date - 21st October, 2pm. The folder was clutched under his armpit. It was instinctive. Matt twisted in the seat and elbowed the doctor. The impact was light, but it was enough for the pale eyed Italian to pull back in surprise and drop the item. One of the pages that slipped was stuck in the chair.

“ _Figlio di puttana_ ,” the doctor cursed under his breath.  

Crouching down, he collected the papers off the floor before he grabbed the one on top of Matt. But not before the bound man succeeded in getting a quick look at it, particularly the two words in the top right corner.

“That wasn’t so hard to do, was it?” Sadik drawled.

But Matt could barely hear him now, the rush in his ears silencing everything around him. Sweating copiously, his body temperature was rising so high he felt his insides burning. The agonising headache was back and interfering with his rational thinking. There was something flashing on the screen, “ _Complete_ ”.

“Time to reboot your system,” the doctor announced. “I don’t usually take pleasure from my work, but it’s going to be very satisfying to see you die.”

Next to the image of Matt’s brain, there was one with a graphic monitoring something that Matt could promptly identify. His heartbeat.

“I also wouldn’t have taken any pleasure in killing you,” Sadik said thoughtfully. He now stood in front of Matt, wearing an impeccable black suit with a black shirt underneath, and stroked his light beard in thought. “Make sure you wake up from this, will you? I will admit, it is quite fun to watch you, little prince.”

He turned around and walked away from Matt and towards the door, hands crossed behind his back. “If you do want to join me in the afterlife you are most welcome. If not...” He paused and looked over his shoulder at Matt, his trademark smirk appearing on his lips as he slowly faded away. “We’ll always have Morocco.”

There were more people in the room now, arriving from who knew where and working around him nervously. They looked like nurses. Something descended over his forehead, cold and restraining, and when he tried to shake his head he realised he couldn’t. He was panting, contorting in the seat, but it was useless.

Without warning, something sliced through his brain as if it was cut in half by a butcher's knife. Simultaneously, a stab of pain struck him in the chest. He screamed. His body arched out of the chair in a sharp angle. His limbs were trembling violently and all conscious thought was wiped out as he battled the tortuous pain that swallowed him whole. He turned limp just as suddenly, unable to move. Only his eyes remained open and he stared ahead.

The electrocardiogram on the screen was no longer showing up and down variations in the graphic. The line was now flat.


	13. 013

“We’ve got a pulse. Cardiac activity restored. We’ve got him. Matthew?’”

There were many voices around Matt, overlapping and speaking on top of each other. The commotion from before continued as he returned to the world of consciousness, but it seemed different somehow. He still hurt somewhere and his chest felt as if there was a heavy weight pressing down on it, but the blinding pain was gone. His surroundings were too blurry and smudged for him to process what was happening.

“Matthew… Matthew, can you hear me?” It was the same calm, unfamiliar male voice he had woken up to, speaking gently to him with a clear English accent. Confused, he turned his face in the general direction of where it was coming from. “If you can hear me, blink twice for yes, please.”

He followed the instructions and there were audible sighs of relief around him. Someone sat down next to him and touched his cheek, which made him close his eyes involuntarily.

“Let him come back slowly.”

The soothing touch of the other person travelled down to his neck and then to one of his shoulders, and eased the burning feeling in his body. He could feel warm, erratic breathing on his left cheek before a light beard scraped across his skin. The motion felt familiar, as if that had happened many times before. The voice that whispered in his ear was soft and known to him, even though he couldn’t place it immediately.

“Don’t you even _dream_ of dying on me, do you hear me?”

He furrowed his brow and tried to put the words into context. His memory was hazy, his brain unable to connect any dots. Thinking _hurt_. But there was something important, something he needed to remember. The last thing he recalled was feeling hollow and pain ripping through him like a hot knife and then…

Doctors. Brazil. Abduction.

The implant.

The handler.

Matt gasped and opened his eyes, sitting upright. The room was easily recognisable now; it was T’s office. He was surrounded by medical staff, Dom was kneeling on the floor next to the couch he was lying on. In his peripheral vision he could see a medical cart to the side and his own exposed chest, his shirt lying open. M and his therapist stood behind the furthest end of the couch with visible concern etched across their faces and in their posture. He looked back at Dom, who was as white as a ghost. If Matt hadn’t known better, he’d have thought the drummer had been crying.

“Please lie down, you just suffered cardiac arrest, we need to monitor you.”

Matt halted for a moment at that, but quickly decided he couldn’t care less about it, as the recent events sprung back to him and more important matters were more deserving of full attention. He tried to get up with effort, much to the paramedics’ dismay. “I know who he is, I know what they did… I know his name.”

M rounded the couch to stand directly behind Dom in clear expectation of more information, but there was little Matt could do to fight the dizziness and the hands that gently but surely eased him back down on the couch.

“Ma’am-”

“One moment,” M asked the doctor near her with her hand raised before she turned to Matt and leant over him, her sharp gaze meeting his. “Did you find it?”

“I know what they did…” he repeated, seeing a medical stretcher being wheeled inside the office. They were about to take him away. “His name is Sigismondi. F Sigismondi.”

 

***

 

_14th November 2015_

_London, United Kingdom_

 

From the first floor, behind a large glass pane, Dom watched the surgery taking place at the lower level. The MI6 superior facilities were equipped with the most advanced apparatus, suggesting there was budget for health related matters in the UK after all.

It was a all a bit reminiscent of _House M.D._ , except this time he was overcome with  nerves. This was no random person lying on the operating table. This was the most important person in his life.

Pale and currently unconscious due to the narcosis, Matt was lying on the table in the theatre below Dom, the back of his neck exposed to the people operating around him. 

The doctors had been working on him for hours, first with never ending tests and exams and then later finally proceeding with the surgery. All to remove the alien object which had been inserted into his body in Rio De Janeiro. It was revealed that, unbeknownst to them all, Matt had been missing for almost three days since he'd successfully retrieved the envelope in Rio until he had woken up disoriented in a favela. His entire memory from that moment on had been modified, the sparse communication with both M and Dom during that period no more than a web of lies concocted by the perpetrator.

The hypnotherapy session had been a nightmare for Dom to witness, to say the least. To watch Matt struggle endlessly, unaware of what his boyfriend was seeing and unable to be of any help as all events had already taken place, he could only resort to sit by his side, sweating and biting his fingernails, wishing for it all to end fast. Once Matt had stopped addressing them entirely and just when he had thought it couldn’t get worse, he’d had to pull Matt’s hand from the back of his neck, for he had attacked himself so viciously, he would have scratched himself raw if allowed. He’d struggled like a wild animal, bruising Dom and T when they had tried to restrain his arms. But the worst had come when he had suddenly stopped altogether, just to start convulsing on the couch and T had to order the medical staff in. They had promptly identified the symptoms and diagnosed the cardiac arrest.

There had been nothing Dom could do but follow in shock as Matt had flatlined in front of his very eyes. The shouts of the paramedics were still imprinted in his mind as he had watched them hovering above Matt's diminutive form, attempting reanimation with the use of a defibrillator. He was convinced he had stopped breathing himself until they had succeeded to bring him back. He closed his eyes, the memory too fresh and painful for him to endure.

Matt had dismissed all their concerns entirely, more intent on relaying his progress. The altered memories, the programming sessions in London, the abduction in Brazil... the procedures he’d undergone to have a chip installed at the back of his neck which would allow the Italian doctor to interfere with his brain and neurological functions at his free will. It all seemed science fiction to Dom, that a human being could be controlled like an electronic device. He would have snorted at the sheer irony, if he hadn’t been so scared.

The door opened behind him and Dom glanced back to see who was joining him. Unsurprisingly, it was M. The bodyguard that had been assigned to her after the events at her place stayed outside as she walked in, carrying a folder tightly tucked to her side.

“He will no longer have external influences meddling with his brain once the implant is gone.” She stopped next to Dom, watching the events on the lower floor. “The recovery, on the other hand, is up to him alone.”

“How is this possible?” Dom eyed her, arms still crossed in front of his chest. “Who would develop technology in order to do this to people?”

There was no reply. Dom didn’t know if it was because she didn’t know the answer or if she just didn’t want to tell him.

“We found Sigismondi’s office.”

Dom widened his eyes at her. “You found him? Already?”

She finally turned to the drummer. “We managed to track down his office and his flat in London.” She paused. “His name is Franco Sigismondi and he’s an Italian psychotherapist who specialised in treatment of victims of abuse. He’s been living in London for two decades and has his own office near London Bridge Hospital. We’re currently in the process of analysing his belongings and his activity, so we shall have more data very soon.” She glanced aside at the window, watching the doctors congregating near Matt. “His whereabouts are unknown since last week, but we believe he’s fled to Italy. It is only a matter of time until he is caught.” Another pause. "A different matter is Damien Jackson. He’s vanished off the face of the Earth for a number of days now. Undoubtedly once it came to his knowledge that Matthew didn't succeed in the mission to which he had been assigned."

"But you'll find him, right?"

M twisted her mouth in displeasure. "A man with his contacts and experience could be anywhere, hidden in plain sight. The CIA will not let this matter drop and neither will we. He won't get far."

At the operating table, the medical team had apparently achieved their task of withdrawing the chip out of Matt’s system. One of the white clad individuals marched out of the room carrying a small container, but it was Matt that Dom’s eyes were glued to, noting how the surgeons continued to work at ease. Everything seemed to be under control and he breathed a sigh of relief.

M spun on her heels. “Q will have the implant for analysis now, so we’ll be able to extract more information from it.”

“Can I go with you?” Dom asked timidly. He had no legitimate reason to make such request, but he longed to have as much reassurance as possible that Matt would be alright. “Matt will want information as soon as possible.”

She took her time to reply, eyeing him up and down, undoubtedly seeing through his half baked excuse. “I will send a man to fetch you once the surgery is over.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

***

 

Q’s shop at the MI6 reminded Dom a lot of Tom’s bedroom back when they’d been flatmates in Exeter; untidy, with various gadgets and pieces of material lying around, it looked more like a warzone than an actual laboratory. The desk was covered in what he assumed was extremely expensive equipment, too.

At the far end of the room, the owner of the mess was currently hunched over a microscope. Wearing a white lab coat and security goggles while he analysed the item under the objective with a pair of tweezers, he looked even younger than when Dom had last seen him a year prior. Q appeared to be deep in concentration and the musician wondered if it was a good idea to disturb him right now. M didn’t seem to have any qualms, however.

“Q.”

The head of the MI6 was short in her greeting, but it was enough to make the scrawny young man jump in surprise. He straightened up and took the goggles off as soon as he realised who had entered the shop.

“M.” A shaky hand ran through his hair, a mix of respect towards his superior and a certain uneasiness shining through. “Hello, Mr. Howard.” He produced a small smile and Dom nodded back. Then, he turned his attention back to his boss. “I’m afraid we’re still in the process of analysing the chip.”

“What have you ascertained so far?”

“It’s made from a carbon nanotube and IGZO hybrid. Very advanced technology.”

“Go on,” she encouraged him.

“This is an absolutely new micro chip design. The carbon nanotube technology that was used here is still very recent, but it’s slowly becoming a viable replacement to silicon in field-effect transistors. Science hasn’t managed yet to make it mass-production ready, however,” he explained, his voice picking up speed. The behaviour reminded Dom of Matt when he talked about something he was particularly interested in. “The IGZO technology, on the other hand, has been used a lot in today’s appliances, like thin-panel displays in our TVs.”

Q stepped aside to allow the two of them to have a look while he talked. M was the first to inspect the chip through the lens, while Q continued his ramble as if the other two occupants of the room knew exactly what he was talking about.

“The initial problem was that it’s easy to build n-type IGZO and p-type CNTs, but not the other way around. Which means that it’s impossible to build a chip out of a single material. But this, this is a hybrid of the two most promising materials. Whoever has made this has managed to do something no other scientist has been able to do so far. They combined them so their respective strengths shine through while they mitigate each other’s weaknesses.”

“Which means?” M urged him, slowly losing her patience. She stepped away from the microscope and eyed her quartermaster.

“Its power loss is significantly reduced, which obviously increases its efficiency.” He pointed to the item still under the microscope. “This chip can run on the bare minimum of energy for days or weeks, probably even months. It’s fascinating. And thanks to the polymer substrate it was built on it’s incredibly flexible, making it perfect for-“

“Q.”

He cleared his throat and looked down in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry. Umm.”

Dom used the small break in conversation to approach the microscope himself, itching to get a peek as well. He was very careful when he leaned forward, as if the tiny implant could jump him any minute. But the source of Matt’s predicament looked deceivingly harmless. It was nothing more than a thin, transparent piece of plastic, with small wires and circuits on the surface. It was difficult to believe the damage it could do – the damage it _had_ done. He felt a little shudder running down his spine and stepped away.

“What have you found out about its content?” M finally inquired when Q still wouldn’t speak up.

“Not much yet, I’m afraid,” Q replied and ran a hand through his hair again. “I’ve isolated the circuit, but I can’t seem to break into the system easily. It’s unclear whether it’s a sole recipient of information and only hosts the program to keep the subject on track or if it can also receive signals and orders from the exterior.”

“You mean like… an antenna..?” The question was out before Dom could stop himself. He eyed the chip warily.

Q blinked at him rapidly. “Not quite but yes, I suppose you could call it that. At any rate, I need to encode it, but the system is protected by a strong firewall. I need to be very careful as to avoid damaging it, so it will take a bit more time until I can give you a detailed report.”

“As little time as possible, as you know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Q bowed his head slightly. “I’m on it.”

He instantly went back to his task and Dom took it as their cue to leave. He followed M outside, where her bodyguard waited. Another person walked up to them and addressed her, and Dom turned away out of discretion, but he realised he didn’t have to give them privacy.

“Mr. Howard,” she called. “It will be a while until Matthew is awake. You should rest for now, I will have one of my agents escort you.”  

***

 

Dom felt as though he’d slept for an entire day, so comfortable he was. He hadn’t been allowed to stay with Matt in the room he’d been taken to, where he’d be monitored to make sure everything was in order after the surgery. The sofa just outside, however, had been perfectly fine. He stretched, wondering whether he could take a peek inside to check on Matt, when his ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voice coming from the inside. It was Chris. Which meant Matt was probably awake too.

The door to the room was slightly ajar and he cursed himself for being asleep when their friend had arrived. He almost tripped as he jumped from the couch to join them.

Chris was on one side of the bed, his upper body bent towards Matt and his right hand raised, fiddling with something in the general direction of the singer’s head. As Dom got closer and they became aware of his presence, the taller man turned to face him and Dom realised Matt had been showing him the bandaged wound on the back of his neck.

Chris beamed and received him with a hug and strong pats on his back.

“Hey, mate. You were asleep when I arrived and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”

“You should’ve done it,” came a smaller voice from the bed. “He was disturbing the whole complex with the snoring. Can’t even have my peace and quiet here.”

Dom returned Chris’ warm welcome before he allowed his eyes to swerve to Matt. The bed had been lifted to allow him to be sat up comfortably. He was just as pale as during the surgery and the dull hospital gown was too large for him, making him look even thinner than he was. But there was a small smile brightening his eyes and mocking Dom was a definite good sign of normalcy too. It might have been a trick of his mind, but to Dom the other man already appeared heaps better than he had been for weeks. He noted that there were several monitors nearby, but he could only see an IV drip attached to his left hand and nothing else.

He sat down next to him, grasping his cold hand in both of his. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. Bit groggy. Sore neck, but that’s it..” He fidgeted in bed and Dom adjusted the pillows behind him to aid him. “D’you know if they’ve found anything yet?”

“Yeah, are they on to the bastards who did this to him?” Chris pointed his chin towards Matt, his eyes narrowing in fury at the mere mention of those responsible for the crisis.

Dom shared the little information he’d been privy to while Matt watched him like a hawk. “But I’m sure M will be coming in to update you herself,” he concluded.  

Chris shook his head. “Science fiction, the whole bloody thing. That’s what it seems like.”

“It isn’t.” Matt pursed his lips in a thin, angry line. “And I should’ve seen it, I should’ve realised something was wrong. I fell for it like fucking sheep and dragged you two down with me.”

“You did see it, Matt, but there was nothing else you could’ve done,” Dom countered. “T said you must’ve been programmed to have your attention deviated from any factors that you could link. And how your migraines must’ve been in part caused by that, of the effort your brain was making to process the conflict of who you were with the instructions you were given.” He sighed. “Remember, you’re lucky to be alive. No one else would have survived it.”

“But I… I knew it all. Sadik-” He stopped, instantly berating himself for talking too much when his bandmates gave him a questioning look.

“What about him?” Dom lifted a suspicious eyebrow, seeing right through him. “You saw him again, didn’t you? Under the hypnosis? And you didn’t tell T, you idiot.”

“What for? As if I don’t fucking know what she was going to say. That all along he was only some twisted manifestation of the real me trying to break through and keep me on track.”

“I don’t think anyone will ever find out all there is to know about the human brain. No matter what these people thought they could do,” Chris mused. “But nice of that old bastard to come back to make amends.”

“And try to get me killed in the meanwhile.” Dom deadpanned, before turning to Matt again, instantly regretting his words as he knew how guilty Matt felt over it. “Sorry.”

But Matt barely seemed to hear him. “They used Sadik to brainwash me,” he muttered. “They played with my memories. Everything that meant something to me; everything that is most dear and everything I hated the most...” He looked murderous. “When I get my hands on Sigismondi-”

“You’re not gonna do anything,” Chris snorted. “You’re gonna set your mind on recovering, get ready for the tour and let _them_ ,” he pointed to the doorway, “do their job. Your work is done, they’ll finish it.”

“ _Finish it_?” Matt’s voice rose and he sat up straighter, accompanied by a wince when he strained his muscles too much. “We’ve barely started! Do you realise we don’t know what the purpose behind these attacks was?”

“That’s why there’s a whole MI6 to work that out. You, my friend, are off duty.” Dom consulted his watch before continuing, not wanting to give Matt the chance to get another word in. “Chris is right. You should probably get as much rest as you can now and-”

“-and I should start heading off home before the missus asks more questions,” Chris added before turning to Matt again with a sigh. “This band called Muse needs their frontman asap. Alright?” He smiled and added, “Although I must admit it’s very noble of you to keep the album as authentic as possible.”

“Good thing it all ends on a happy end,” Dom added with a twinkle in his eyes. Now that it was all over, it was easy to make fun of the situation.

Matt, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be in the mood to joke about it. He looked down at his hands, a frown on his face. “It’s not… It does not end well.”

“Don’t be so gloomy, mate,” Chris said softly and crossed his arms. “What did I just say about this band needing their frontman? We’ll be off to Mexico soon and I expect you to be your best disgustingly cheery self."

The singer inhaled deeply before giving him a small lopsided smile back. “Have I ever let the band down?”

Chris nodded, grinning. “That’s what I wanna hear.” He leaned over the bed and held Matt’s hand over Dom’s. “It’s good to have you back. Now get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He patted the side of Matt’s face affectionately. “What about you, Dom? You coming?”

“I…” He hesitated. “I’ll go with you, see if I can find someone to give me another update. You’ll be okay, Matt?”

“Go home, you can come back tomorrow,” Matt replied.

Dom gave him a peck on the mouth before he stood up. “No, I’ll come back before I go.”

The two friends walked out together in silence. It was only when they were reaching the exit that Chris spoke.

“I don’t want you to worry… but I’m afraid Matt’s gonna be in danger. Or that he does something stupid  or... I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Dom swallowed, Chris voicing aloud his own fears. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I know you will, but what I mean is, maybe we should get some extra security. Just in case. And not just for Matt but for you too.”

“You’re crazy, why would I need any extra security?” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll talk to Rob and see if he’s got anyone he’d rec us for Matt.” He paused. “But we won’t need it. They’ll find the fuckers who did this first. We’re gonna be in Mexico soon, visiting pyramids and playing sold out arenas and all this will be forgotten.”

“I hope so too, Dom.”

***

 

 _16_ _th_ _November 2015_

_London, United Kingdom_

Matt reached the end of the swimming pool with one last straining stroke. He held on to the ledge with his eyes closed, panting hard. It was pointless to check the timer, he knew he was far from his best shape. Earlier in the morning at the gym, he’d sunk to his knees and vomited violently after a brutal workout. He was lucky nobody had been around to see him. It annoyed him how much of his fitness he’d lost in such a short amount of time. At this point, he wasn’t even sure if he could get through a full concert without having a breakdown. But he’d get there, no matter how much it took.

He pulled himself out of the water with effort and sat down on the edge, grabbing for a towel to put over his shoulders. The fabric scraped at the back of his neck and his muscles tensed for a brief moment. Physically, it no longer hurt, it was only a faint bruise that itched while it closed and gradually transformed into a small scar. The other wounds, however, those would take longer to heal.

He could hear his phone buzzing on the bench where he’d left it and he stood up to check who was ringing him. His gaze sharpened instantly and he pressed the green button.

“M.”

“ _MB-7. We found him._ ”

“Where?” He breathed.

“ _Amalfi Coast in Italy. Sigismondi owns a villa there under a false identity. It belonged to one of his former patients, a deceased one.”_

“Of course,” Matt commented. “Is he locked up already?”

“ _Naturally._ ”

“What did you find?”

“ _About the project he’s running, very little. There are journals detailing meticulously the progression of some experiments pertaining to the spectrum of susceptibility and a number of videos with footage from those sessions. But not much more. We will proceed with an interrogation.”_

“I want to be there.”

“ _I’m informing you by mere courtesy. You’re not on the case. You’re not even cleared for duty. And may I remind you that you’re due in Mexico City-_ “

“- in three days. Since when have you ever bothered with my schedule?” he snapped. “You’re interrogating him tomorrow?”

He could feel M’s irritation at the other end of the line. “ _What part of_ you’re not cleared for duty _did you fail to understand?_ ” she rebuked. “ _Until you get green light from T, none of this is your concern.”_

“Oh, come on, what does she know? I can do all the physical tests and a marksmanship evaluation today still, if you want.”

“ _Don’t bother, you’ll fail them all._ ”

He took a deep breath. “Let me go in with you. He’s a master of manipulation, you’re not gonna get anything out of him in an interrogation. If he sees me, he might let his guard down.”

“ _I don’t think that is a good idea, Matthew. You’re not ready._ ”

“I don’t fucking care!” he exploded, turning on the spot, while his voice echoed in the pool facilities. “I have every right to be there. I was one of his subjects!”

“ _And this is precisely why you’ll stay home_ ,” she stated coldly. “ _This is my last word on the matter._ ”

Matt rubbed at his eyes.

“Maybe it’s not,” he conceded. “A good idea, I mean. But you have to understand how crucial this is. I _need_ to know.”

There was no answer for a few seconds which felt like an eternity. But then there was a sigh on the other end of the line and Matt allowed himself a small victorious smile.

“ _It is truly a pity I can’t send you to meetings at Whitehall._ ”


	14. 014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Drones tour ends tonight, just as we get one step closer to the end of the story. This is one of our favourite chapters, enjoy :)

_ Positano, Italy _

_ Tuesday, 17th November 2015 _

 

Dom looked out the window lost in thought. It was always nice to be back on the Italian coast, even if this trip had been an unexpected one and on very short notice, to say the least. But there was no way he was allowing Matt to travel on his own for this. He had been surprised but pleased to be met with little resistance. It was almost as if Matt had wanted him to come along. Chris hadn’t been keen on the idea, on the other hand. He had claimed they were cutting it too short with the upcoming Mexico gigs, but Dom knew that the real reason had little to do with timing and more with concern over their well-being. 

A car had picked them up at the luxurious  _ villa  _ where they were staying and they travelled along the coast now, leaving behind the steep, narrow streets lined with restaurants and hotels in the cliffside village. Its colourful houses spread out over the mountain and defied gravity, as the waves crashed over the sandy beaches below. It was no wonder Sigismondi had picked Positano as a holiday retreat. But his good fortune was now over, Dom concluded with glee.

Soon, they stopped outside a property located in the north of the region. Despite being fenced off and surrounded by wide, tall walls, it didn’t look much different from the other _villas_ they’d passed. 

“Doesn’t really look like a prison, does it?” Dom commented.

Matt tapped away on his phone at the speed of light as he spoke. “That’s because it isn’t.” 

“What the hell? But he’s dangerous!”

“M’s afraid of interferences if they lock him up in a prison, if you know what I mean.” He said without looking up from the screen. “The  _ Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna _ got us a secure house. It’ll do until he’s taken to London.”

“Won’t extradition take forever though?”

Matt raised one sarcastic eyebrow. “Extradition? Who says he was caught outside England?”

“But…” Dom shook his head at a loss for words and said nothing more, deciding there were things about intelligence agencies that he still preferred not to know.

The solid gates slid open to let them in and Matt pulled Dom’s white hoodie up, before he put on his own sunglasses. The car stopped shortly after. The door was opened for them and Matt stepped out, nodding with a quick “ _ grazie” _ .

They were escorted inside the imposing building, the façade giving away what in other times might have been a majestic _villa_. They spotted M straight away in the foyer, in deep conversation with a younger man in a suit, her bodyguard close behind. 

“Here they are.” M’s gaze travelled up and down their figures, but she didn’t address them again and no further introductions were made. “Agent Mazzini, we may proceed.” 

They parted ways outside where Sigismondi was locked; Dom was steered to an adjacent room with the Italian agent. Matt and M would be the only ones allowed inside, M’s bodyguard remaining at the door with the security men there.

The drummer positioned himself in front of the monitor to be able to follow the interrogation, rolling his shoulders to shake off the tension accumulated. Agent Mazzini motioned to the single pair of headphones available and he put them on immediately. It appeared no one else was meant to be privy to the contents of the interrogation.

The scene on the screen was not unlike many he’d seen in films. A man in a faded jumpsuit sat on a chair at a table in the centre of the room, with his hands cuffed. His gray hair was tied at the back of his head in a small ponytail and his head hung low, his face hidden. Dom’s fists curled of their own accord at the mere thought of what this man had put Matt through.

Suddenly, there was a door rattling and the doctor raised his head - Matt and M had just entered. He looked up at M from head to toe before his gaze landed on Matt, and Dom could swear he saw a sparkle in his pale eyes. One corner of his mouth raised up slightly and he hummed in approval.

“You’ve brought my slave with you. I was starting to wonder where he’d vanished to.”

They both treated the jibe professionally by ignoring it.  M sat down in the chair opposite of Sigismondi with Matt right next to her, his arms crossed and his posture rigid. His eyes immediately sought out the other man’s, but the doctor wasn’t particularly interested in him after his initial comment.

M eyed him closely before she leaned forward, her forearms resting on the table in front of her and her hands clasped together in a lock.

“Mr. Sigismondi,” she started. “I don’t think we need to spend any time on pleasantries or introductions and can get straight to the point. You and I both know why you’re here and why you fled from the United Kingdom.”

He simply shrugged, not bothering to comment.

“So, how about we start easy and you tell me what exactly you were trying to achieve with my assassination.” She was met with silence, so she tried again. “What was your objective?”

“ _ Mi dispiace, signora _ , but I have nothing to talk to you about.” He brushed her off with a simple hand gesture, the handcuffs clinking together.

“Then talk to me,” Matt finally spoke up and laid his hands flat on the table, his arms straining. “Tell me why you chose me.”

M leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms, mimicking Matt’s earlier posture and letting him try his luck. He simply stared at Sigismondi’s face and waited, his eyes boring into the other man’s.

“I don’t see what business I have with you, 13120.”

Matt considered his words carefully. “That’s not my name.” He couldn’t react to the goading, but he had to get him to talk, no matter at what cost.

“Drones do not have names.”

“I’m not a drone.”

The doctor lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes, seemingly observing Matt for the first time since they had entered the room. “Very well. You were at the right place at the right time. You weren’t targeted particularly, if that’s what you want to know.”

“You mean if not me, then whoever agent had been sent to that assignment?”

“But I will let you know how very pleased I was with you. Your resistance has piqued my interest from the very first day you were presented to me. I knew you’d be difficult from the start, but you proved to be a real challenge.” The doctor’s voice was laced with something akin to excitement. “It even showed in the procedure. The electrical stimuli we used on you to weaken your defenses and obtain information had to be quite a bit stronger than the ones we used on the other subjects. A real fighter. Even if it was in vain and only made the procedure more effective.”

“Tell me why,” Matt demanded again. “How.”

“It’s quite simple, isn’t it? It didn’t take long to see that you could be valuable.” He turned his attention from the singer to M. “And coupled with the little intel from our source revealed just  _ how _ valuable.”

M didn’t even blink an eye, apparently already having expected that. “You are referring to Daniel Thompson, the officer who committed suicide.”

“Yes, he might have worked in business support, but that doesn’t mean anything. He was equipped with all the knowledge and access to get exactly what we needed.” The doctor rolled his eyes. “It was a pity losing that one.”

“Enlighten us,” M spoke up again. “I want to know how you managed to manipulate my loyal officers into betraying their country.”

“You’ve figured it out long ago.”

“But I want to hear it from you.”

“You just want to hear how exactly I managed to control the mind of the one who you’ve taken under your own wing,” he turned to Matt, “and make him my personal puppet. He was easy to control after the initial resistance and turned out to be one of my best drones, albeit with the use of an experimental procedure, if I may add.”

“Experimental procedure,” Matt repeated weakly.

“Yes, indeed. The manipulation of human algorithm, but it’s not like you understand anything about that. Quick and efficient, we just needed to tell the brain exactly how to work with the help of our program, the rest was done on the go, seeing as we were on such a tight schedule.”

“So you changed his algorithm to kill me, is that it?” M pressed, to bring the conversation back to the point.

Sigismondi sighed. “This is very primal, but I do not expect  _ you  _ to understand the human brain. The idea was to create a man who does not fear death or pain; the perfect soldier. 13120 would become the closest you could come to.”

“But you failed.” Matt said. “You couldn’t overthrow the MI6. Or was there something else?”

“I failed?” Sigismondi countered. “Quite the contrary, I’d say . The malfunctions didn’t result in your death. You merely needed small corrections in your program. You’ve been under my control from the start, I dictated your every step.”

“No, not really. We wouldn’t be here now if what you say were true. It’s over. You lost.”

“We have barely even started.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re wasting your time,” Sigismondi shook his head. “You’re looking for the wrong things in all the wrong places. You know nothing. And when you least expect it…” He smiled smugly. “You get struck with the tail.”

He smiled and pursed his lips, starting to whistle a familiar tune that instantly set Matt’s heart racing. His eyes squeezed shut as something clenched around his brain painfully.

Sigismondi laughed. “ _ Meraviglioso _ _. _ See, 13120? You think you’ve beaten me, but the truth is that I own you.”

Matt took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the moment. It was nothing, it was gone. He opened his eyes defiantly and smiled. “No. No, you don’t.  _ I _ have won. Just because I recognise it doesn’t mean I feel any effects. You will never control me again. I’ve escaped from your grip.”

Sigismondi glared at him, the first sign that he wasn’t so cocksure anymore. The expression changed after only a few moments, though, and the cruel smile was back.

“It’s almost unfortunate that you were chosen to be a Delta assassin,” he said casually. “When you were such a natural Beta.”

Matt’s hands balled to fists at his sides and he clenched his teeth. Fucking doctor and his fucking games. He breathed out deeply and relaxed his fingers, letting his face fall back into an impassive mask as well.

“Beta programming,” Sigismondi continued, inspecting his fingernails. “You know what  _ Monarch _ entails, don’t you? You know how it works.”

Of course he did. Sexual slaves offered to politicians, powerful individuals... They’d give in to just about any demands if it meant their adventures and indiscretions would remain secret. It hadn’t been a surprise to find out he’d been subjected to Beta programming himself, but he refused to acknowledge it. He just narrowed his eyes and tried to breathe as normal as possible, finding himself incapable of a reply.

“We’re quite familiar with how it works, Mr. Sigismondi, thank you.” M interrupted. ”What I want to know now is who you work with and for what purpose.”

Sigismondi ignored her and kept his gaze on Matt. “I think the conspiracy enthusiasts call it the  _ Sex Kitten Programming _ .” He tapped his right pointer finger against his chin. “And come to think of it, it’s quite accurate. I debated deleting it from your storage, but I just couldn’t bring myself to it. And your boyfriend enjoyed the little extra attention too, didn’t he? I did you a favour.”

Matt simply growled again, trying hard not to let it get to him. He knew he was being taunted, that Sigismondi was trying to get a rise out of him and he couldn’t allow himself to be manipulated again. Still, it was difficult to keep himself in check, probably even more so than countering his trigger. He couldn’t speak up, couldn’t let him know exactly just how strung up he was right now.

“Mind you, not all my subjects are meant for it. But you… You were very good.” When Matt didn’t react he added, “I enjoyed the attention you gave my cock very much.”

“Mr. Sigismondi-”

“You’re lying,” Matt ground out. The possibility made him feel disgusted with himself. “That never happened.”

“But you’re not sure, are you? You don’t remember if it happened or not.”

“You fucking-“

“Matthew,” M interjected.

“ _ Allora _ , do you want me to unlock that for you? I can do so easily.” He raised his chin and looked down on Matt. “I could delete every single memory of yours if I wanted to, as well.” He snapped his fingers. “Your skills, your knowledge - all deleted in the blink of an eye. Your passion for music - forgotten as if it was never there in the first place. Every single memory of your boyfriend - gone forever to never return.”

“You can’t,” Matt insisted. He could feel his body trembling in anger and his fingers clawed into the wood of the table. “I’m free. The chip is gone, you can’t control me anymore.”

“You think you have it all figured out, but you know nothing.” He paused. “ _ Sevgilim. _ ”

Matt stiffened visibly, the all too familiar pet name freezing the blood in his veins. Sigismondi laughed.

“I know everything about you, 13120. I’m in your head.” His eyes glinted with malice.

“Shut up.”

“I know what makes you tremble in fear-” 

“I said shut up!”

“- what makes you shudder in pleasure...”

“Matthew!”

The doctor leaned forward pinning Matt down with his stare, his bound hands flat on the table. “No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be free of me. You have to live every day with the fear that I could not only make you kill your loved ones from one moment to another, but also trigger you to be so hungry for cock that you’d let strangers fuck you in public with your boyfriend right next to you and you wouldn’t even care about his little heart breaking!”  

Lightning fast reflexes kicked in, and Matt found himself jumping over the table, his hands clawing around the Italian’s shoulders. The chair gave way with their joined weight and tilted backwards, both falling to the floor. Next thing he knew, Matt was pulled backwards, two security guards dragging him away.

“Let me go! For fuck’s sake, let me  _ go _ !” He pushed against the arm of one of the guards, trying to get back to Sigismondi, whose disgustingly loud laughter egged him on even more. Matt’s eyes flashed and looked as furious as a storm. “I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna fucking kill you, you hear me?!”

“Get him out of here!” M barked.

The door closed behind him and he wasn’t allowed freedom until they were outside. When he tried to get back in the way was blocked. He growled and clenched his fists, but instead of starting another confrontation, he turned around and stormed out without another word.

Dom, who had thrown away the headphones and abandoned his spot as soon as the fight had begun, only sighed and looked over to the two security guards. He shrugged apologetically before he took off after the singer.

***

Back at the  _ villa _ , Dom watched Matt fumbling with the kettle. For some reason, it wasn’t working like he wanted it to, which didn’t alleviate his anger at all. The appliance would get smashed sooner or later, Dom was pretty sure of that.

He hadn’t dared to speak to Matt for the whole ride and even now he opted to keep his mouth shut. The smaller man radiated agitation and fury and Dom knew from experience that it wasn’t the best idea to approach him when he was in that state. They had all learned to just wait out the storm; Matt would calm down after a while without anyone interfering and go back to his usual, silly self as if nothing had happened.

But that didn’t seem to be the case this time. Instead, it felt as if his mood only got worse. The things Sigismondi had said had been absolutely sickening and Dom could feel his skin crawl even thinking about it. He couldn’t imagine how Matt must feel now. He didn’t know how to react and his heart ached at the mere thought of Matt struggling with that; he’d only recently regained his confidence in himself.

A shout ripped him from his thoughts and Dom looked up to see Matt hitting the cabinet with his flat hand, his whole body wired with tension. Dom decided all repercussions be damned, he’d not wait it out.

”Matt,” he said carefully. “Come on, sit down. You need to relax.”

”Fuck off and keep your useless advice to yourself.”

He rolled his eyes and blew an audible breath. “Stop being a dick. Sit down, breathe.”

“I sit down when I fucking well want to,” Matt snapped. Hot water finally ready, he poured it into the mug, but shook so much that some of the water splashed on his hand. “Fuck!”

Dom was next to him in an instant to check for burns, but Matt slapped his hand away. When Dom insisted, he pushed him in the chest and walked away. Dom held him by the shoulder.

“Matt.”

Anger flashed in the blue eyes and before Dom could react, Matt had grabbed one of the chairs and hurled it in his general direction, crashing against the wall a few metres away from him “I’m not your sodding puppet! Stop trying to tell me what to do!”

His eyes turned to slits and Dom’s arms shot towards the singer. “Alright, that’s it.” They snaked around the slim waist and then squeezed tight while he lifted him off his feet and slung him over his shoulder.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let me go!”

Matt yelped and struggled, but Dom turned a deaf ear to his protests and instead adjusted his weight so he could move. He took a step forward to test his capabilities and then, satisfied with the result, started walking.

“For fuck’s sake, let me down, you cunt!”

Matt punched his shoulders and kicked his shins like a furious child, but to no avail. Dom navigated into the bedroom and dropped forward as soon as his legs hit the wood of the edge of the bed, his body weight landing on top of the singer’s and effectively pinning him down to the mattress.

“You’re such a wanker! Get off me or I swear to god I’ll-”

“You won’t do anything,” Dom interrupted him softly and slung his arms around Matt as if he were a very big and aggressive pillow. “Stop talking tough, we both know you could easily kick my arse if you really wanted to.”

Matt roared and punched Dom’s back with his hand, but Dom just tightened his limbs even more to make his point. The small body underneath him struggled and squirmed, but didn’t get free of him. Dom’s head pushed into the nook of the brunet’s neck. His lips sought out contact with the pale skin in front of him and he breathed onto it calmly. He could feel the blood pumping through the other man’s carotid artery and the strong and fast heartbeat in Matt’s chest, and just held onto him wordlessly. 

One more punch to Dom’s back and Matt stopped suddenly, a deep breath leaving his body. His fingers unclenched before they closed around the soft material of the shirt, slowly hugging Dom close. The drummer smiled and rolled so he could lie next to him and snuggle more comfortably, his hold on the small body not wavering.

They stayed like this for a long time, just the sound of their breathing breaking the silence. It was dark outside by now. Matt’s head was turned towards Dom, his nose buried in the black hair. Dom had untangled his legs at some point and they now framed the other man’s, his hands rubbing Matt’s back gently. They only spoke when Matt pulled back slightly.

“Alright?”

“Yes. Better.” He looked down at Dom’s chest guiltily. “I’m sorry I flipped out.”

Dom smiled and raised his chin to kiss him. “Don’t worry. I have dealt with your temper tantrums for half of my life, I’m used to it.”

Matt smiled at that too, because he knew better than anyone else that it was the truth, and moved around in bed so he could rest his head on Dom’s stomach, his feet dangling over the side of the bed. Dom’s left hand found its way into the brown strands while his other arm was pushed behind his own head. He watched the singer intently. Matt was simply staring up at the ceiling, and Dom could see the wheels in his head virtually turning .

“He’s right, you know?”

“Sigismondi? With what?” Dom asked puzzled.  

“I’ll never be safe again.”

“Matt-”

The singer turned his head so he could face the other man, his cheek pressing into the stomach underneath him unconsciously. His eyes tried hard to avoid looking at Dom directly, but he still seemed to be unable to look away completely. “Maybe one day I wake up to find you dead next to me… That I smothered you with a pillow or that I slit your throat open with a knife. Because he made me do it.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Dom stated and raised himself onto his elbows. “He was just trying to wind you up and you know that. We removed the chip and you’re doing therapy. You’re recovering well.”

Matt sat up and Dom followed suit. “I reacted to his whistling, didn’t I? Who knows what’s still hidden in my brain.” He tapped against his temple with his pointer finger.

Dom crossed his arms and shook his head, his brows furrowing. He didn’t exactly know what to say; he could understand Matt’s fears, but he refused to entertain the mere possibility that the singer would still be vulnerable to any kind of interference and hurt anyone.

“I wish I could get away from you, far away,” Matt admitted quietly. “Just so you’re safe. But I don’t want to leave. I don’t know what to do.”

“Jesus, Matt.”

The revelation didn’t shake him as much as he wished it would. If he was being honest and tried to put himself in Matt’s shoes, he would be just as scared. In fact, he probably would be considering packing his things as well and get as much distance as possible between them to protect him and the others. But he also knew that this was no option for either of them, and never would be.

“Look,” he started carefully. “I know that there’s no guarantee that you won’t… You know? But there’s also no guarantee that you _will_.” Matt opened his mouth to say something, but Dom interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “I know. I get it, I’d be shit scared too. But if you stop everything now, stop being you… That’s exactly what he wants. It would be no better than being his drone or slave or whatever he wanted to turn you into. Then he’s won.”

“But Dom, you don’t understand! If something happens to you-“

“Nothing is gonna happen to me.”

Matt gave him no time to react when he crawled closer, his fingers clawing around Dom’s wrist almost painfully. They were nose to nose now, and Dom could feel Matt’s shaky breath against his lips.

“ Then promise me something,” Matt said quietly, his eyes locked with Dom’s. “If I ever attack you again, you have to promise me to do something.”

“Matt-“

“No. No, please. Please understand how important this is for me.”

“I do, but-“

“Defend yourself, kill me if you have to, I don’t care-“

“Stop. Stop right there!” Dom shouted. His hands raised to cup the other man’s cheeks. “Stop being so melodramatic, you stupid twat. You tried that. Twice. And I survived. You will always come back to me. I promise I will make sure that you and I are both going to be okay, but don’t ask me to hurt you.”

“Dom…”

But Dom didn’t allow him to continue, pressing his lips to Matt’s, longing to leave this blasted conversation and Matt’s ridiculous demands behind.

Matt didn’t argue and positioned himself on top of him, a leg on each side of Dom’s, and slung his arms around his shoulders. He rested his head on his shoulder, his face turned to Dom’s ear, and hummed softly. His exhales tickled Dom and he shuddered lightly.

“You’re the bravest man I know, Dom,” Matt whispered into his ear.

The drummer’s eyes turned down self-consciously even though Matt couldn’t see, unsure of what to say. “No, I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted. “We’ve known each other forever and you’ve accepted every abuse I’ve thrown your way. Every time I have let you down, you just smiled and carried on. And last year, when you found out about all these terrible things about me-“

“They weren’t terrible things, Matt.”

“- you simply stood by my side.  And still do. It’s amazing, Dom. You’re amazing.” There was a small pause in which Matt took a deep breath. “I know I don’t say it as often as you deserve to hear it, but I love you. I really do, and the thought of ever losing you is unbearable.”

He pressed his nose into Dom’s neck and Dom turned his head to nuzzle the singer’s hair. He felt his chest swell with bliss. It was true, Matt didn’t say it out loud much, but Dom knew it all the same. He’d shown him over and over in their everyday life, and that was worth so much more than three simple words. The feeling was mutual and he hoped that Matt knew it, despite the apparent perpetual fear that it would be easy for Dom to hurt or leave him.  

His hand once again sought out the other man’s brown hair and he stroked it slowly. He could feel Matt pressing himself even harder against his body in return and tightened his arms around him, kissing his neck so tenderly that that alone made his body tremble with  emotion.

“So..,” Matt whispered and Dom could feel his lips stretch into a grin against his skin. “Is this a pity cuddle for you or for me, then?”

Despite himself, Dom laughed softly. “You’re such a little cunt, Matt.”

 


	15. 015

_Positano, Italy_

_Wednesday, 18th November, 2015_

  


Edging out of their rented Mercedes, Matt scanned the area for onlookers, as Dom shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

“What if she’s already inside?” 

“No.” Matt shook his head. “We’re early.”

They’d discussed at length how to handle matters today and, in the end, they had decided that they wouldn’t let the day before be the last time they’d seen Sigismondi. They were aware that M wouldn’t be too thrilled to see Matt there, and after finding out that she’d scheduled another interrogation this very morning without letting him know, it was very clear that their presence wasn’t exactly welcome either. 

Nevertheless, they had agreed that they would at least try to get in by talking to her. If it didn’t work, they’d figure out something else. 

Just then a black limousine drove up to the metal fences. Matt didn’t wait and stepped forward, heading straight for the car while it waited for security to clear.

“Matt, you can’t just-“ Dom ground out through gritted teeth, but lunged after the singer. “What if it’s someone else?”

The other man ignored him and simply knocked on the tinted windows in the back as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Dom hoped nobody would freak out because a random stranger had just walked up to one of the cars about to enter a property which was under the fucking Italian Secret Service’s protection.

The window lowered slowly and Dom breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that it was indeed M sitting inside, not someone who could pose a real threat. Then again, she was probably just as much of a threat as anyone else.

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“And I say no.” She looked at Dom who’d just joined them, standing a step behind Matt. “Enjoy your day together. I will update you when I see fit.”

“Come on. I swear I won’t fuck it up.”

“Good day, Matthew.” She signaled for her driver to move and the window raised again.

“No, wait!” Matt shouted and clutched the rim of the pane as if he could stop the mechanic behind it. Dom cringed and hoped he wouldn’t break a bone right before resuming the tour.

But the sliding of the windows ceased and the car still didn’t move. Instead, there was a moment of silence before the window lowered again and M’s glower reappeared.

“I just want to get inside with you. That’s all I’m asking.”

“What gives you the idea that I would allow it after your amateurish behaviour yesterday?” Her voice was as cold as steel. “You were unprofessional and let him affect you and stand in the way of your duty.”

“You’re right, and I won’t make the same mistake again. Let me and Dom watch you from the other room. I just want to get inside the building so I can hear what he has to say. _Please_.”

There was a flicker of something on M’s face after Matt had uttered that last word and Dom knew she was very much aware of the fact that the singer rarely pleaded for anything. He demanded, sure, but he only ever outright asked when it was something that mattered significantly to him.

She watched him through the narrow opening and Dom looked between her and the singer until the window lifted again completely. Matt’s shoulders drooped slightly, but he kept quiet and lowered his gaze to the floor. But instead of driving off, the car’s back door on the opposite side opened and they exchanged a look of disbelief before jumping in without wasting another second. Both squished in the backseat with a very intimidating Head of the Secret Service, they tried very hard to look like innocent school boys.

“You’ll have no contact with Sigismondi today.”

“No contact.” Matt nodded and signaled with his arms. “I’ll be sitting quietly and not move until you come back. Promise.”

“And I'll make sure he behaves,” Dom added. “I’m good at that. Honestly.”

M stared at them unblinkingly. ”I’ll put you in the first plane back to London if you so much as _think_ of trying something. Both of you.”

The drive wasn’t even a minute long, but it seemed to last forever. Just like the previous day, they were directed to the arrival’s door where the same Italian officer already awaited them. They shook hands with him and were then led to the entrance of the actual secure area.

They walked through the same long corridor and while agent Mazzini talked on his phone, Matt took the chance to stand up to his superior and  bring up what had happened the day before. He knew she would probably just thwart him off, but he felt the need to apologise to her as soon as possible and show her that not only was he aware of his mistakes, but he’d also know how to stay in control under pressure. And maybe, just _maybe_ , she’d let him into the interrogation room again...

“Look, about yesterday…“

Just like he’d expected she waved a hand and glared at him. “Not now.”

“I know it’s not the best of times and-“

“It doesn’t matter right now,” she interrupted him. “We’ll have a conversation about it at a later date.”

“But I just want you to know that I-“

“We’ll talk about this _later_ , Matthew.” Matt didn’t dare to try again. He stepped back into line with Dom instead and just shrugged nonchalantly when the drummer looked at him.

Once they reached the high security area, another guard greeted them while their host explained in Italian who they were supposed to see. The man nodded. He picked up the receiver on his desk to call whoever was supposed to bring the doctor to the interrogation room.

It appeared that this time they would have to wait for Sigismondi to be brought in. Matt turned away while the guard made the arrangements and Dom bumped his shoulder against him discreetly.

“Wonder if he’s gonna tell us more today,” he whispered so nobody else could hear.

“Probably not.” Matt sighed. “I doubt we’ll get anything important out of him, but I’m sure M will be ruthless, she’ll try everything in her power to make him talk. Maybe we can make sense of what he said between the lines yesterday. It was all too cryptic, but sometimes all you need is a lead.”

“What if-”

“Shh, wait,” Matt raised a finger, the guard’s dialogue over the phone catching his attention. “Something’s wrong.”

“ _Che cosa intendi_ ? _Ma che dici?_ ” The guard listened to something the person on the other end said before he looked up at agent Mazzini and M with the receiver still pressed to his ear. “Sigismondi’s no longer in his room,” he announced in English. “He’s being transferred to Napoli as we speak.”

Agent Mazzini was livid. “ _Ma como?_ ”

“What?” M snapped at the same time. “He’s under MI6 investigation and nobody but me - and only me - can give a transfer order. This was our arrangement.”

“I know, _signora_ , but apparently the CIA-“

“The CIA?” Matt interrupted, his heart skipping a beat. “Who? Who ordered it?”

The guard whispered into the receiver of his phone. Once confirmed, he replied, “A special agent Damien Jackson.”

Matt’s wolrd came to a halt. They’d found the doctor, and now they were going to lose him. The MI6 would never find him again, Matt was sure. He’d disappear and work somewhere else. He’d do to other people what he’d done to him. Matt couldn’t let that happen.

He pushed the guard blocking the entrance to the side and ran down the corridor. Dom called his name before taking off after him, the guard too perplexed to even try and stop him.

“Lock down the whole building,” M’s command could be heard behind them. “This man mustn't leave under any circumstances.”

Alarm sirens howled over their heads as Matt and Dom ran through the wide hallway, guards pushing other inmates back into their rooms. Orange lights flashed in the main area and Matt looked left and right before taking off to the left, Dom still hot on his heels. They were joined by several special unit officers, no doubt sent by M, when they leapt up the stairs leading to the upper floor, a narrow, balcony-like elevation their path past the rooms. Guards in the way pressed themselves against the wall as soon as the group advanced.

They ended up staying behind the officers, who were clearly heading for Sigismondi’s own assigned room. It was empty, the door wide open, and the Italian agents only stared at each other in puzzlement. Matt pushed past them, completely out of breath as if he’d just run a marathon, to confirm himself that Sigismondi was gone. He stumbled backwards a few steps before he howled and punched the heavy metal frame with his closed fist.

“Matt…” Dom tried, catching his breath.

The singer didn’t react, instead spinning around to overlook the area. Under them a couple of inmates fought with personnel, not too keen on getting back into their confinements. His hands clawed around the railing and he was about to shout out his frustration when he caught sight of two figures quietly making their way out of the commotion. One of them turned around and they locked eyes, Matt’s blue meeting with the grey paleness of the rogue doctor. Sigismondi must have recognised him too because he said something to the CIA agent and they picked up speed, leaving through a door in the far corner.

There was no time to think when Matt jumped over the railing to reach the lower floor. He landed on his feet and rolled to alleviate the remaining energy from his leap. Legs burning with pain, he took off after the two criminals.  

In the following hall he could find dead agents lying on the floor. He knew they were usually unarmed, like MI6 officers, so Jackson must have killed them when they had stepped in their way. He cursed under his breath and continued to the end where a heavy door obstructed his path. He could hear Dom calling his name once again, but ignored him and instead pulled the door open.

He was hit with a cold breeze when he stepped outside and looked around to find an indication of where Jackson and Sigismondi had fled to. His answer came in the form of an engine roaring and his eyes swerved to the side to see the doctor entering a black minivan on the passenger side. Sigismondi spotted him and his lips curled into a victorious grin as his companion stepped on the gas and the car was set into motion with screeching tires towards the large gate that would lead out of the grounds.

It was made of heavy iron, so it was impossible to just crash through it. It was madness to even try.

But suddenly the gates opened and cleared their way into freedom. The guards standing in front seemed stunned as they looked around and shouted orders. They pulled their guns and aimed them at the advancing car.

Matt started running immediately. Bullets wouldn’t stop that vehicle and he knew there was only one more chance to catch them before they’d be out of his grasp. His chest hurt from physical overexertion. He closed his eyes for a split second and shook his head to get rid of the dizziness before he climbed up some metal crates that were located close to the path, possibly a supply of fresh clothes or food. When the van sped past he pulled all his energy together and jumped, his body hitting the roof with a thud, fingers scratching into the varnish at the sides to get more purchase.

The guards jumped out of the way when the van crashed through the barriers. They sped away faster and faster, and Matt had trouble holding on. He crawled forward until he was level with the side windows of the front doors and then leant forward to hang upside-down to smash the glass in with his elbow. The other agent was quick to react and pointed the gun at him, Matt only having a split second to pull back.

He spun around and lowered himself again, this time with his feet first and kicked Jackson in the face while diving inside the car. The agent was propelled against Sigismondi and Matt used the chance to make a grab for the wheel to stop the car. However, Jackson hit him in the face with the gun, his right hand instinctively shielding his face. Matt was hurled out of the seat and instead pressed against the dashboard. He growled lowly and pushed against the strong grip of the CIA agent.

“Fucking shoot him, 10132!” Sigismondi shouted next to him.

The doctor made a grab for Matt’s shoulder to pull him out of the way, but Matt lashed out, his fist hitting him square in the face and causing an audible and satisfying crack. He managed to roll to the side and reach the wheel, pulling it to the right. The van took a sharp turn in that direction, the passengers inside tumbling to the left. Matt’s back hit the door and his upper body pressed against the remaining broken shards of the window frame.

He wasn’t quick enough when the CIA agent’s fingers tightened around the handle and the door behind him opened, making him lose all his balance. He fell onto the country road, his back hitting the hard pavement, and rolled until he landed on his stomach, unmoving.

Jackson nodded victoriously at Matt, but the success was short lived when Sigismondi shouted, “ _Look out!_ ” and he turned his eyes back on the road ahead to see a lorry heading straight for them. He yanked the wheel to the side and the black minivan skidded dangerously until it finally turned over. It came to a halt right in front of a _villa’s_ wall, its wheels still turning and smoke coming out at the front.

The doctor unbuckled and fell onto his neck, wincing painfully, but otherwise unharmed. He climbed out of the car and saw Matt lying a couple of metres away, slowly pulling himself together.

Jackson stepped up to him, much more bruised, but not giving away any pain or discomfort, and reloaded his gun.

“ _Che peccato,_ ” Sigismondi said while looking down on Matt. The singer was struggling up on his elbows, his eyes rebellious and defying. He wasn’t going to give this man any victory.

“You were good. Would have loved to play with you a bit longer. Oh well, I’ll find someone new.” He nodded towards Jackson. “Finish him.”

There was no time to react when the agent raised his weapon, but instead of pointing it at Matt he aimed it aside - at the doctor. The booming sound of a gunshot deafened Matt’s ears and Sigismondi stumbled backwards a few steps, his eyes wide and unbelieving as a stain of dark red rapidly spread on the material of his jumpsuit.

“What are you- You’re-“

“Mission accomplished. Reporting back in,” Jackson simply said.

The doctor’s body dropped to the ground and Matt could see it losing all energy, the man dying right in front of his eyes. Heavy footsteps crunched the gravel as Jackson walked away from him towards the crashed minivan, the fingers of his free hand flying through the air as if he was typing on an imaginary keyboard.

Matt raised himself to his knees, a million scenarios running through his mind as he tried to come up with an explanation for what he was witnessing. His battered body refused every motion he took, but he prepared himself for the possibility of an incoming attack. However, the other man just nodded along to something Matt wasn’t aware of.

“Yes, sir,” the agent finally said. “Understood.”

He looked over to the singer and raised his hand to salute him. Matt didn’t even have time to shout “ _No_!” when the gun was pointed against Jackson’s own temple and he pulled the trigger, the bullet crushing his skull effortlessly.

The lifeless body crumpled to the ground just as Matt had found the energy to stand and run over. He looked down at the CIA agent and balled his hands into fists, unable to form a coherent thought or feeling on what had just happened.

Sirens alerted him to police cars approaching, the blue and red lights of their emergency lights bouncing off the walls even in the broad daylight. Matt turned around and had to shield his eyes from the sunlight to see the scene getting swarmed by officers.

***

 

Matt winced as the paramedic taped the small cut above his eye which he’d sustained from the gun. Dom sat next to him and watched him with hawk eyes. He hadn’t said anything yet, but Matt was sure the tirade was gonna come.

“That’s all, sir,” the paramedic said in somewhat broken English. “As soon as you feel up to it, you can leave.”

Matt nodded at him. “ _Grazie_.”

The guy got rid of his gloves and packed away his tools before he left them to talk to his superior.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Dom traced the back of Matt’s hand thoughtfully, his eyes trained on the movement of his fingers.

At last, he calmly said, “You. Are. A fucking idiot.”

“I know.”

“What gave you the idea to chase after them?” His voice had risen in volume and his fingers had trailed from the back of Matt’s hand to his wrist, gripping it tightly. “Without backup?! You’re still recovering, you could have died!”

“I know.”

“You’re lucky you’ve only sustained that cut and some bruises. If I could I’d fucking punch the lights out of you right now.”

“Dom,” Matt interrupted. “I’m sorry, okay? I couldn’t stand there and let them escape, I got carried away. I didn’t think. I was stupid.”

The drummer was about to counter when they heard footsteps approaching and both turned their heads to see M approaching. Matt immediately straightened himself, wincing when his back popped. Dom sat up properly too, deciding to stay in the background.

“I’ve spoken to the Foreign Secretary,” she said, “Black has requested a video conference with the CIA to clarify their position on this matter, for which I will be joining very soon.”

“What does that mean?” Matt narrowed his eyes. “That the CIA may somehow be involved? That doesn’t make any sense.”

M just stared at him gravely, a pause until she spoke again. “As for you, you are to leave immediately. Your name is cleared off all records and your little stunt won’t have any repercussions. You’ve never been here.”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, glaring at his employer. He could see right through her blatant avoidance of his question. “You’re taking me off the case.”

“You’ve never been on the case in the first place.”

“This concerns me!” he argued. He could feel Dom’s hand closing around his arm, the drummer ready to speak up, but he pulled his arm away. “You can’t just tell me to fuck off like that.”

“I knew it was a mistake to authorise you to come to Italy.” Her eyes bored into his. “I trusted you’d know better this time, but yet again you displayed terrible judgement and conduct. God knows how I managed to keep your cover intact after you did every possible thing to expose yourself.” She glanced aside at Dom. “And if you involve Dominic Howard in one of your operations again, I _will_ suspend you. You’re incapable of looking after yourself, let alone be responsible for someone else’s safety.”

Dom twitched and sat up straighter, as if he was being scolded himself. Worse, because it was perhaps more uncomfortable having to sit there and hear Matt being harshly reprimanded while the agent had, once again, seemingly lost the ability to speak. Dom wished he could speak up himself and at least point out that he didn’t need a chaperone, but he did not want to cross her now…

“And you _will_ stay away from this case. Or any other in the near future.”

Matt finally replied, pushing himself off the stretcher. “I’m ready to work, for fuck’s sake.” His voice was oddly strangled.

“Your therapist will decide when you’re ready to work and what kind of work you will be fit for. Good night, Bellamy. Mr. Howard.”

 


	16. 016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we’re still here…! But not for long, as our story is steadily approaching the end. Whether that is a good or bad thing, we’ll let you decide on your own, as you’re about to find out...

**** “I can’t believe she’s sacking me.”

“She’s not sacking you.” Dom’s eyeroll went unnoticed as he rubbed over the bruises on Matt’s back tenderly. “You heard her, you’ll be back as soon as T gives you green light.”

They had left as soon as Matt was released by the medical team and the singer had complained almost the whole way back to their place about M and her “piss poor management of valuable agents”. Dom had just smiled and let him rant, his own irritation from earlier gone as he admitted to himself how glad he was to have Matt back to his normal, chatty self. Now, however, he also craved some peace and quiet with his partner, and the jacuzzi on the terrace that overlooked the Tyrrhenian Sea offered the perfect spot. It wasn’t L.A. weather, but they were lucky, considering it was November.

“But not on  _ this _ case, you heard it. She fucking meant it too. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t and you know it, you’re just an impatient git.” In reply, Matt just sloshed water around them. “And a childish cunt.”

He leant forward, his chest pressed against Matt’s back, and extended his arms to make a grab for the long fingers still playing with the water. Their fingers intertwined and the brunet let him lower their arms over his stomach before Dom reclined and pulled him back.

“Stop bitching and relax. I know it’s not easy for you, but at least try to.”

Matt sighed and closed his eyes in an attempt to comply. The feeling of Dom spooning him was soothing, his strong heartbeat thumping against the singer’s body very welcome. As if reading his mind, one of Dom’s hand untangled from their joint fingers and moved to lay across Matt’s chest, right above his heart. 

He should have felt at peace, but he just couldn’t shut off his traitorous brain.

He had survived the attack which was so close to truly making him lose his mind , unscathed. M was alive. Sigismondi was dead and so was Damien Jackson. So why did it feel like they’d failed in every possible way?  

“What’s bothering you?” Dom asked softly. “There’s more to it than just being locked out from this.”

He hummed lowly. To tell Dom or not? It wasn’t a case of not trusting the other man, because Dom had proven how much Matt could count on him, but he was opening Pandora’s Box even thinking about the possibility. How could he pull Dom into something that he himself wasn’t ready to face just yet?

Dom nuzzled his neck and he twitched, that particular spot still a bit too tender for his liking. The twitching turned into a small shudder when the other man licked over where the chip had been inserted; he moaned when the tongue ran along his skin towards his ear.

“I think there’s a lot more behind all of this,” he blurted. “Not just random people in the MI6 getting targeted.”

Dom’s ministrations stopped and Matt closed his eyes, steeling himself for his reaction. He could feel Dom exhaling against his skin, apparently collecting his thoughts before he spoke up carefully. “You’re being paranoid, Matt. Are you saying the CIA is trying to take control over the MI6?”

“No, I’m not. I’m saying the exact opposite; that I think someone wants us to believe that. But that the truth is something entirely different.” He paused, unsure of how to word his theory. “I don’t think that Jackson was aware of what he was doing. He had a code number, I heard Sigismondi call him by it in the van. I think… I think he was like… Like me, y’know?” The last part was spoken so softly that Dom had to swallow hard.

“You think he was being brainwashed.”

“Yes.”

“But…” Dom frowned. “Why would he kill - without being in control of his own actions - the very person who brainwashed him?”

Matt took a deep breath. “He knew too much. No loose ends.” He hesitated before adding, “I think this could be  _ a lot _ bigger.”

Dom didn’t say anything after that and Matt didn’t push it. If Dom didn’t want to talk about it, then it was fine, he wouldn’t force him. The possibility alone was frightening enough. Still, the idea had manifested itself in his brain and he tried to wreck his memories for anything that could be useful. To hell with M not wanting him on the case, it didn’t mean she could forbid him of making conjectures.

They climbed out of the jacuzzi soon after that and Dom handed Matt a bathrobe, his own wrapped loosely around him.

“So,” he started, as they padded side by side upstairs to the bedroom. He considered his words, as if he wasn’t sure that he could even say them. “If you are right and this is bigger, what do you reckon it is, then?”

“I don’t know.” Matt distractedly caught the towel which the other man had grabbed from the bathroom and tossed his way. “But doesn’t it strike you as odd that they’d choose some random intelligence officer? Sigismondi confirmed I was only chosen because I was on the case, he had no reason to lie about that. Why wouldn’t they go for someone of a higher position if they wanted to take control?”

“Maybe they couldn’t get to anyone else,” Dom suggested, taking the towel out of Matt’s hands.

“Why would they choose the guy in business support then?” He gesticulated wildly around Dom, who was vigorously toweling his dark hair dry. “He’s uninteresting to them, in that aspect. And yet, they’d been working on him for a while.”

“If you say it like that... Yeah, it is weird.”

Matt stole back the towel out of his hands and threw it in Dom’s face. Dom swore at him, eliciting a loud giggle from the singer, drying then his own black dyed hair, before the towel was finally discarded in the hamper together with the bathrobe. Hand on his hips, Matt stared at the naked body of his partner.

Going by the lustful gaze he received, Dom could already guess how the night was going to end.

“Should I even bother with clothes?” he asked cheekily, cocking his head to one side and ignoring the folded underwear he’d left on the bed.

Matt’s eyes continued roaming over his body as he walked by. “No, probably not. You’re very distracting when naked.”

“Well, I still have some things to do,” Dom called from the bathroom.

“You mean your evening routine? Make-up and stuff?”

“It’s not make-up, you twat,” Dom grumbled.

“Whatever. It’s gay either way.”

“Says the one who takes it up the arse.”

Matt disposed of his own bathrobe, leaving it on a heap on the floor, and flopped on the bed. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked at the ceiling in thought, waiting for his companion to finish his ritual in the en suite.

“So what’s your plan then?” Dom asked when he finally glided into bed next him. “Knowing you, you won’t rest until everything is solved.”

“I don’t know yet. But I’ll find a way. Maybe I can pop into the archives and read through reports from this and the Thompson case. Should be able to find out a few things.”

“There you go.” Dom rolled on top of him.

“There’s only this one small problem. You know, the fact that M  _ sacked _ me.”

“She didn’t sack you, Matt,” he deadpanned. “She told you to get a break.” 

Matt remained stubborn. “She didn’t  _ tell  _ me, she fucking ordered me to.” 

“Then be nice to your therapist,” Dom suggested, dipping his head to leave a kiss below Matt’s jaw, coaxing him to relax and bare his throat. “As soon as she agrees you’re back in action, you can think on how to convince her to let you back on the case if they’re still struggling with it. But, you know, speaking of which,” he drawled into his collarbone, the tone of his voice changing into something more flirtatious. “How about we have a little bit of action on our own..?”

“Not going to argue you there,” he whispered, looping an arm around Dom’s shoulders.

He ground his hips up and they both moaned. Matt couldn’t help but grin at the absolute look of bliss on Dom’s face. The drummer moved up and bent his head until his forehead and nose touched Matt’s. He cupped one side of his face, his thumb gently stroking his cheek.

“There’ve been moments when I wondered if I would ever be with you like this again… It’s so good to have you back.” 

Matt tilted his head up to reach for his mouth, one arm still around Dom’s neck, while the other hand ran down his side to lay on Dom’s arse. It was true; they had been too close to losing each other and Matt had thought a lot about what Dom had gone through. If it had been bad for Matt already, it had to have been a nightmare for Dom. 

“I’ve missed this too. It feels as if it’s been forever since we’ve been together, like this. Or maybe I’ve just forgotten.”

“Well.” Dom kissed him once. “Then I suppose we have to continue to,” he kissed him again, “work on helping you remember,” another kiss, “all the things you might’ve forgotten.” He nudged Matt’s knees apart with his own, grinning down at him slyly.

Matt giggled, settling down on his back while he drew his knees up on each side of Dom’s body. “You reckon we should make a list?”

“Oh, I think I’ve already got a number of boxes to tick tonight…”

***

Morning came quicker than both had anticipated. Even though their flight to Mexico wouldn’t be until early afternoon, their alarm went off at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, the sky outside still dark and cloudy. They groaned in absolute misery. But there were things to pack and Matt was determined to make a trip to the gym for a good workout session, so they couldn’t really afford a lazy lie in.

“Can’t we just stay in bed for a little longer? I wanna go too, but not…  _ now _ .”

“Sorry, Dom. Gigs can’t wait, you said so yourself.” Matt chirped while he buttoned up his shirt. Unlike his companion he’d gotten out of bed already and was eager to leave and return to touring life. Anxiety over the fact that he’d had zero rehearsal time for the 360º stage was also beginning to set in his stomach. There was no other solution, they’d have to make do with the time they had before the gigs.

Dom whined and slung his arms around his pillow. He kicked Matt when the singer poked his ribs.

“I can’t believe you’re lazier than me for once,” Matt laughed. “Usually I’m the one moaning about staying in bed.”

A wicked grin formed on Dom’s lips. “Well, you were definitely moaning only a couple of hours ago.”

“Cheeky.”

“But really, I’m still fucking knackered.” The drummer rolled onto his side with the pillow still in his strong grip. His head found its place back on the soft material, his cheek rubbing over it in a sleepy manner. “All the action is finally catching up on me. Could sleep for days, I think.”

Matt yanked the blanket up to Dom’s shoulder blades and smiled down at him affectionately, receiving a confused look in return.

“Stay in bed for a bit longer, I’ll make you breakfast.”

Dom, in reply, raised an eyebrow. “You mean you’ll get room service.”

“No, I don’t, you tit. I mean I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Is that a trap? You don’t make breakfast, you make disasters.”

He crawled on top of Dom’s body and then moved forward until his elbows were trapping the dark haired head between them. He nuzzled against Dom’s stubble, smiling at the feel of the short, stiff blond hairs brushing his cheekbone, and the other man turned sideways to accept a proper kiss.

“See it as me trying to make up for all the trouble I’ve caused you over the past couple of weeks.”

Dom’s hand curled around his shoulder and Matt knew he’d said the wrong thing when the other man’s smile slipped. He swallowed, but didn’t want to break their gaze.

“This wasn’t your fault. Any of this,” Dom said quietly. “Stop thinking it was.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I worded that wrong.”

Dom nodded, then leant forward to catch Matt’s lips for another kiss. His hand landed on the side of the singer’s neck for a light caress before it moved to the back, pulling him down to deepen their kiss.

However, Matt disentangled himself from the other man and chuckled when he pulled up his boxers, where Dom’s fingers already had a firm grip. The drummer all but whined. “I’ll get you some nourishment before I leave so you’ll be up for when I’m back, then we can continue where we left off. Deal?”

Dom grumbled, but nodded nonetheless. Truth was, he was dying for something to eat. “Don’t take too long.”

The singer laughed and left Dom to his pillow-snuggling, closing the door so he could sleep in peace. Descending slowly, he hesitated at the foot of the stairs.

Something was off.

There was a faint but distinctly putrid odour in the air, instantly reminding him of rotten eggs, and he scrunched up his nose in disgust. A gas leak? For a moment he hesitated, unsure if he was only imagining it all, but his bones ached with an unease that had nothing to do with the paranoia he’d been experiencing since all of this had begun.

His instincts picked up on things he wouldn’t have paid attention to under normal circumstances. Matt’s head turned slightly to the left as if it would make him hear the very quiet hissing sound more clearly. Was it coming from the kitchen or somewhere else? From the living room he could pick up a faint draught, as if the balcony door was slightly open. Checking the kitchen or the living room first was the question. He opted for the latter.

He stepped inside carefully and approached the door, inspecting it to find his assumption correct; the door wasn’t properly closed, the plastic surrounding the glass not fitting into its frame properly. His eyes moved to the side. A little spot of dirt was on the floor next to the balcony door.

There was someone in the house.

His heart rate instantly picked up as adrenaline started to pump through his veins. Looking around to locate his phone, he remembered he had left it charging in the bedroom. He was about to return upstairs and get Dom to safety, when a dull thud came from the kitchen.

He held his breath and waited. Silence. His presence had probably been detected already and he couldn’t outrun them now.

He swore under his breath; he had no idea if he was dealing with only one intruder or more, or whether they were armed or not. Unarmed himself, Matt had seen his gun confiscated the night he’d been admitted to the MI6 facilities, and there was nothing in reach that could be used as an effective weapon either. He’d have to rely on his hand-to-hand-combat abilities.

Tiptoeing towards the kitchen, the foul stench in his nose becoming stronger and stronger the closer he got, he flattened his back to the wall when he reached the doorway. He listened to any noise coming from the room, but apart from the continuous hissing there was nothing disrupting the morning stillness.  

With one swift motion Matt swept inside, his hands poised and his legs slightly spread. His eyes wandered through the room, trying to spot the intruder, but he could see nothing out of order. It looked exactly the same as when he’d last been in there a couple of hours ago.

He was once again hit with uncertainty, the scene all too familiar to his hallucinations. But his condition had improved and T had assured him that there was only a very small chance for relapse. Relearning to trust his instincts was something he’d had to work on, and in this case he somehow knew that his brain was not tricking him.  

He stayed alert, his steps generating next to no sound on the floor as, unable to determine the source of the noise, he tried to locate the origin of the hissing he’d heard before.

He bent down to examine the space behind the fridge, mindful to keep his field of vision open enough, in case somebody approached. He was unable to suppress his reflexes and coughed when he inhaled a lungful of toxic air, stumbling back in alarm, his suspicions confirmed. There, behind the equipment was a gas leak. The substance was colourless, but the small hole in the pipe in addition to the sound of escaping material was enough for him to piece it together.

Judging by the strong smell it must have been leaking for quite some time already. They could have died of asphyxiation during their sleep if Matt hadn’t gotten up so early. Not to mention the high risk of fire or explosion they were currently exposed to. Matt doubted this was sheer coincidence: someone had entered the house and sabotaged it to murder them.  Nobody knew they were here, so it had to be someone connected to the case. He had to warn Dom and get them out of the  _ villa _ .

He jumped up from his crouched position, but before he could even as much as whisper Dom’s name he was hit in the face and landed on his back, his head bumping against the side of the fridge. 

He groaned in pain and was momentarily disoriented, giving his attacker the advantage. Hauled up, his back slammed against the fridge, Matt tried to hold onto something on instinct, his hand closing around a thin piece of metal hanging from the other man’s neck. It broke off just as the side of his head hit the hard surface again and it took a moment before his vision stopped swimming so he could see the masked figure above him. He pulled his knees up and drove them into the other man’s stomach, who then let go of him and stumbled backwards enough to allow Matt on his feet and land a punch himself.

When he tried for a second hit, his attacker blocked with his underarm and pushed his arm away, Matt ducking away from the following hook. He swiped his legs to throw the masked man off, but failed to keep his balance and tripped, only barely holding himself on his knees with a hand to the counter. But it was enough time for his opponent to gain the upper hand again and he was pulled up by his hair and thrown face first on the counter. Squashed between the cold surface and the hard body behind him, one hand clawed around his neck while another clasped over his mouth and nose. He tried to rip away the hand that was pushing against his chin to bend his head backwards in an attempt to break his neck, but the awkward position gave him almost no leverage. 

Suddenly, there was a loud thump followed by glass shattering and the iron grip on his chin and face abated. However, the attacker didn’t let go completely and only turned his furious face to Dom, who stood behind him with the neck of what used to be a wine bottle still in his left fist, his eyes wide and panicked.

His attention diverted, Matt seized the opportunity to headbutt the intruder. He released Matt and bent forward in pain and the singer forced him down by the shoulders, following with a kick in the face with his right knee. The guy staggered a few steps before finally crumbling to the floor.

Both musicians stared at the limp form, looking out for any sign of consciousness, and held their breaths. When nothing happened Matt swiped his forehead with one hand and bent at the waist, squeezing his eyes shut.

The drummer was next to him in an instant, checking on the small cut above his eyebrow that had opened again during the fight. “Are you okay?”

“Just some bruises. Shit, Dom,” Matt replied and actually laughed a bit. “That was close. Thanks for saving my neck.”

Dom looked down sheepishly. “I heard noises from downstairs and had to check,” he explained and looked down at the inert man lying at their feet. “Who’s that and what is he doing here? And what’s that smell? It’s giving me a fucking headache just breathing in here.” He coughed.

The smile on Matt’s lips vanished when he remembered the reason why his attacker seemed to be in their house. “We need to get the fuck out of here, quickly. They’re trying to kill us, that’s gas.”

Dom’s widened. “Fucking hell,” he exclaimed and raked through his unruly hair. “I thought it was all over.”

“Told you it’s not.” Matt pulled him by the arm towards the hall. “We can talk later, let’s get out of here. And cover your nose and mouth with your arm,” he added, following his own advice. 

They didn’t get far, as suddenly a tall, broad guy, dressed much like the previous intruder, emerged from the living room. Dom couldn’t react quickly enough and was instantly shoved into the wall, his head hitting the shelf behind him with a sickening crack.

“Dom!” Matt shouted when the body of his boyfriend slid down the wall, unresponsive.

He didn’t have any time to tend to the drummer, though, as the bulky attacker zeroed in on him. There was a set of brass knuckles attached to his right hand and Matt only had a split second to dodge before the metal could connect with his face. He stumbled backwards and turned tail to run into the living room - away from Dom so he wouldn’t sustain any collateral damage - his opponent hot on his heels.

He knew he was no match for that guy. Physical disadvantage, no weapon and on top of it he was growing dizzier and unfocused because of the gas. If he could somehow dupe his opponent it would give him enough time to take Dom and escape. He could only hope that there weren’t any more accomplices hiding.

He jumped over the love chair to get some distance between them. There was nothing close that could be used as a weapon, so he simply flung the remote at the other man. It was a desperate attempt without any result, but it gave him some precious extra seconds to think.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled it off, right before the brass knuckle hit him in the chest. He coughed and slumped on all fours, but unlike his attacker had expected he didn’t go down completely. Instead, he dove between his legs while looping the belt around his right ankle, wrenching it with all his might. It was enough to get him to lose his balance and drop heavily, with Matt jumping up to his feet.

The assassin grunted and Matt absentmindedly noted that it was the first sound he’d heard from him. He got up on steadier legs than the singer expected and simply shook out his limb before he took a run for it.

Like a bull he dashed towards Matt and they collided, Matt’s body rammed against the glass of the balcony door. It shattered and he fell into the garden where he landed on his back painfully, his opponent on top of him. Matt reacted first, rolling them over across the slippery grass, punching him in the throat to immobilise him. He needed to get rid of him if he wanted to get back to Dom.

The fresh air outside was a blessing and Matt used the small second of space to take a deep breath to clear his head. In the corner of his eye, he could see the attacker’s hand moving to his belt and a gun coming into view. As he had seen the motion in time, he could take a swing at it before the other man got a proper grip on the weapon and it flew away from them, landing a couple of metres away on the pebbles.

They both stared at it and then at each other... before they started to grapple, trying to get an advantage over the other to get to their common target. Matt found himself on his back on the uneven ground, his stomach being used as leverage as a knee dug into it and he moaned in pain, his hand shooting out to catch the material of the other man’s trousers. He was kicked to let go but held strong and in the end, managed to push him to stumble. Then he broke into a run and simply dived for it.

He landed on his chest and winced, but the gun was his and he quickly turned onto his back, his opponent advancing. The gun was already aimed when the other man jumped to attack him. Only a split second later he shot, the booming sound deafening his ears. Matt squeezed his eyes shut, the ringing in his ears too loud for his still sensitive senses; he only opened them when he heard the dull thud of the body hitting the floor and, after making sure the guy was dead, breathed a sigh of relief.

He looked back at the house. Back to Dom now, the drummer probably still out cold. Given the situation it was dangerous enough, with the gas still leaking, but who knew how many more people were lurking around. Time to escape and find shelter at the MI6.

Matt had just taken one step when it happened: a loud explosion ripping through the air before a wave of heat hit his body. 

The resulting blast propelled him backwards and he skidded along the hard pebble pavement, several pieces of stone and glass striking him. 

He couldn’t get up anymore, his body not having any energy reserves left, and he collapsed. His vision swam, going in and out of focus, but he could see flames licking at what used to be the  _ villa _ .

“Dom…” he whispered and extended a hand towards the burning pyre. It couldn’t be. “Dom…”

Then there was only darkness.   
  



	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gents, we bring you the final chapter of NDoD. It’s been a long and difficult ride but such is the life of secret agents who lead a parallel life as rock gods (or is it rock gods who lead a parallel life as secret agents?). The ending of this story has been in the cards for a long time, even before we finished Everything or Nothing; it was always going to be like this :)
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who stayed with us until the end, it means a lot, and many times it was truly the biggest motivation, to know there were people waiting to know what would happen next. Without readers there are no writers (or at least work made public lol)!
> 
> A very special thank you to festive_tights who came along halfway through with blazing guns, bearing an American flag proudly, and was an invaluable help!

_Amalfi Coast, Italy_

_Friday, 20th November, 2015_

  


The very first memory he could think of when it came to Dom was not their meeting at the Den. It was weeks before that, in an entirely different location.

He had been cooped up with his band at the time in the school’s music room to practice some songs for hours. They had been nothing more than cover songs, but the band had definitely needed some practice, especially Matt himself.

His mates had decided that he were to play the guitar, even though he had protested and argued against it. He hadn’t felt particularly skilled with the instrument and more often than not he had caught himself considering leaving the band just because he had felt incredibly small and not good enough. His discomfort had inhibited him and he had become even more introverted, his lack of social skills threatening to make his teenage years a nightmare.

But then Dom had entered his life. Long haired and only slightly awkward, he’d stumbled into the music room during one particular Nirvana cover, apologising profoundly for the intrusion and explaining he just needed to pick up some stuff for his own band.

Matt had waited for him to gather the equipment and leave because his confidence back then had been pretty much non-existent, especially when that cursed instrument was slung around his neck, but the blond hadn’t left. Instead, he had taken his sweet time to rummage through cables and microphones, and Matt had no other choice than resume with him in the room, lest his band mates got angry with him.

Halfway through the song he’d been brave enough to glance at the blond and found him staring at him intently. Heat had instantly crept up Matt’s neck and cheeks, but for some unfathomable reason he’d been unable to look away. Instead, he held eye contact  for the rest of the song.

He’d left after the song was finished, with a quiet “cheers” slipping over his lips, and Matt had watched him closing the door in puzzlement. Next time they’d met, Dom had asked him to join his band.

He had thought back to that particular day a lot of times during the course of their friendship and wondered how different their lives would have been if Dom hadn’t barged into the music room during their practice.Would Dom have asked him to join his band? Would either of them even still be playing music? Would he be happy?

None of it mattered anymore as Matt sat in the second to last pew of a small church somewhere in Italy. He didn’t know where exactly he was and it was of no importance to him either. Searching for a place where he could be alone with his thoughts, ironically, the church had been the first building he’d come across. There was only a priest present once in awhile when he was milling about to do his tasks, but he didn’t dare to bother him, probably aware of the deep sadness Matt carried within.

He wished he could apologise to Dom for all that he’d put him through all these years. From flying guitars to setting him up for all sorts of embarrassing situations just to amuse himself at his expense; Matt didn’t even know where to begin. Looking back at their friendship, he still wondered to this day how Dom had stayed around for so long, accepting all of his flaws and nastiness without ever trying to change him. Quite the contrary, in fact; it seemed that Dom had only loved him more with every harassment or disappointment, no matter what Matt had or hadn’t done.

He’d pushed him away for so long, tried to resist the attraction he’d felt for the drummer since the moment they’d sat on Dom’s tiny bed in his childhood home and talked about their passion for music. The push-and-pull game he’d played with him – of desperately wanting him close, but at the same time pushing him away when he got _too_ close – had been out of fear that one day, Dom would finally realise that Matt would never be able to give him what he deserved, and would leave him to pick up the pieces.

He’d been an idiot, Matt could admit as much. He’d been too afraid to face his demons, too wound up in his insecurities that he’d deceived his friends out of a false sense of protection. The last year since all of his secrets, both his past and sexuality, had come to light had been the best of his life. And yet, it left a bitter aftertaste. Sadik had told him as much and even though – or especially because – he had been a figment of his subconscious, he’d been right all along.

Matt had wanted too much and Dom had paid the ultimate price. He’d promised to protect him always - and he’d failed in the most painful way.

If he could, he’d turn back time and never return to the MI6. He would never take the mission in Rio de Janeiro, and he would never fall prey to his own mind.. He’d stay with Dom and live out their happily ever after, together. Release a couple more albums, tour the world, tease each other about yet another grey hair, visit Chris and Tom and all the others and their families on Christmas day. A disgustingly ordinary life.

He craved that disgustingly ordinary life now.

The click of heels echoed around the ancient walls and stopped next to the pew behind him. He didn’t bother to look up, but wasn’t surprised to find M sitting down beside him quietly when he didn’t react.

He didn’t say anything and neither did she. Under different circumstances, Matt would have snorted at the fact that M had taken the effort to find him and offer comfort. As it was, however, he couldn’t feel a thing.

“Matthew.“

He shook his head. “Don’t.“

“I wasn’t going to-“

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted her. His voice sounded raw and hollow to his own ears. “No matter what you want to say, it doesn’t matter.”

Even without seeing her face, Matt could almost feel the pitying look she was giving him. Although reminders weren’t necessary for what never leaves one’s mind, the devastating reality he was facing came crashing down on him again and with it, the feeling that his heart had been ripped out of his chest, that he suddenly didn’t know how to breathe. That there was no future to look forward to.

“It’s my fault. I knew something was still going on,” he continued, clutching the edge of the pew with both hands in hope the dizziness that shook him to the core would go away. “I told him I knew it wasn’t over. I _knew_ it, and I didn’t send him home. I put him into danger. And now he’s…”

Matt’s shoulders slumped at that and he stopped himself from saying anymore. He would not cry - especially not in front of her. But guilt was a terribly heavy weight on his shoulders. He went back to his previous train of thought and wondered how many of his selfish decisions had destroyed something for Dom, one way or another.

“This is bigger than any of us. Bigger than you, Dominic or the Service. And whoever is behind it will stop at nothing.” M paused. “Some battles we win. Others, we lose. It is the nature of our work, of the life we chose.”

 _He didn’t choose this,_ Matt wanted to snap back. But Dom had. He had made sure Matt knew - he had told him over and over and _over_ \- just how much he supported him, how much he’d wanted Matt to follow this path. And for one fleeting moment he felt anger. Anger at Dom for being so naively supportive of something so dangerous, for being so foolish. He wanted to shout at him, punch him in the face and shout even more… until he was again faced with the reality that he no longer could.

“I gave instructions for the family not to be informed.” M’s voice at his side seemed to come from far away. “I assumed you’d prefer to handle this matter yourself.”

There was nothing in the world he would like less to handle.

“We’re still working on identifying the culprits behind the attack,” she continued. “The agent you neutralised in the garden had a mobile phone on him. Q is decrypting the mobile data and past GPS locations. We hope it will give us insight on where he came from, and furthermore, where to find the men responsible for everything that has happened in the past months.”

Matt remained quiet. There was nothing to say to that. He knew his superior expected a reaction from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

After a while, M stood up without another word. She remained next to the pew for a few more seconds, seemingly contemplating how to act. Her hand found the way to Matt’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“We will find them, Matthew, and take them to justice. I promise you that.“

She squeezed his shoulder once more, this time a bit stronger, before she turned her back on him and quietly left the chapel. Matt remained in the same position, but his hand fished something out of his pocket.

It had a strange shape, unlike any other dog tag he’d seen. The necklace was broken when it had been found in the remains of the _villa_ \- the paramedic had explained in an apologetic way as if it had been his fault somehow - but luckily the pendant was intact. They had assumed it belonged to Matt or perhaps Dom, but Matt knew better. It had been around the first attacker’s neck when they had fought in the kitchen and he had been the one to break it. Now, it could be his only valuable lead.  

He thumbed the small flower engraved on the slightly charred surface before he closed his fist around the small metal plate, the sting of it cutting his skin not even registering in his brain. He considered M’s words as she left.

“I’ll make sure that _I_ will.”

 

***

 

The transport made its way across the uneven field. There were no proper streets, only the icy ground with its frozen, dead grass underneath, patches of solid ice making it hard to control the vehicle. The low-hanging branches of the equally frozen trees made it even harder to navigate in the complete darkness of the night.

After a while, a large building came into view. A block of concrete right in the middle of an abandoned area with no other building, or anything that would indicate human life in the vicinity. Floodlights illuminated the area where the entrance to the highly secured facility was, and a guard stood on each side of the fenced metal gate. The transport stopped for security procedures, the driver showing his papers to one of the guards, while the second armed force checked the cargo. Once everything was in order, the transport was let through.

Several men in uniforms already waited at the far end of the facility to receive the shipment. Once the vehicle stopped, one of them walked to the back to pull the tarpaulin away and reveal the cargo.

Men and a few women sat jammed together on the narrow benches of the car. Some of them were unconscious, others seemed as if in a daze or otherwise completely out of it. Only a handful seemed to be conscious enough to understand what was going on around them, their eyes showing the absolute terror and panic they felt.

Instructions were shouted at them in a language most of them didn’t seem to understand and they were pulled out roughly one by one, with soldiers watching their every movement and training machine guns on their chests.

A man in a white labcoat soon joined the scene and did a quick check-up on every prisoner. When he was finished, he shouted something that sounded like a code and the guards carried the person to the according part of the huge building or tossed them into a large container like dirty rags or dead animals.

The next person he checked was barely awake and had a head wound, the dried blood still clinging to the dark strands of hair. He cringed; damaged goods were never of high value and it was not only easier but also cheaper to just get rid of them as soon as possible. However, he stopped his observations when his gaze swerved to the man’s neck and the item that was tightened around it.

He extended his hand to take the dog tag in confusion. Producing a flashlight from his pocket, he shined it on the plate in the palm of his hand for inspection. Indeed, the small desert flower engraved in the corner spelled a message loud and clear.

Raising one eyebrow, he turned to one of the soldiers standing next to the containers and commanded him to fetch something from inside. While he waited, he turned his attention to the prisoner’s face to get a better view of who he was dealing with. The harsh light getting shone into the other man’s eyes didn’t elicit a reaction, so far gone was he.

When the guard returned, he handed him a small device, which the doctor then held against the dog tag. A short beep indicated data being read and after only a few seconds all information he needed was being shown on the small display. He whistled in astonishment before he grabbed the other man’s hair and pulled it backwards, forcing him to look up with glazed, unseeing eyes.

“Congratulations, you just extended your life time,” he said in what was clearly his native English. The other man’s head lolled to the side and the doctor let go of him, nodding to himself with a small smile before he turned to inspect his next patient.

“Welcome to Hub 22, Mr. Howard. I have no idea what you’re doing here, but I’m sure we’re going to find a way to put you to good use.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

T

B

C

 

:)


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